


White Wolf and Silver Lily

by TheMagician



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-23 12:53:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 54,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6117031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMagician/pseuds/TheMagician
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On his search for Ciri, Geralt encounters old friends, former lovers and forgotten enemies. This is a retelling of the awesome game that The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A King, A Regicide and A Witcher

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my version of Wild Hunt. :-)  
> I don't really want to say much before you even start to read the actual story, so there's only three things:  
> 1\. Obviously there'll be SPOILERS for the three Witcher games (mainly the 2nd and 3rd).  
> 2\. You'll recognize many scenes from the game but once you're past chapter 3, the story will take more independant turns.  
> 3\. There will be more, far more relationships in later chapters and more characters will appear that aren't listed here yet for I don't want to spoil anything.
> 
> Aaand I guess that's it. I hope you enjoy :-)

Geralt's search for Dandelion was getting along slowly and Ciri's trail was growing colder by the minute. Whoreson Junior seemed to be a key element but he was nowhere to be found. As luck would have it, Geralt could count on his old acquaintance Dijkstra yet again. Upon entering the Novigrad bathhouse for the, oh, estimated, twentieth time of late, the former spy was seated in his office – where else would he be? He only ever left the bathhouse if the need was dire.  
"Got a minute?" Geralt asked and was confirmed by a nod.  
"What do you want?"  
"Whoreson Junior's working with Radovid." Dijkstra had been of great help lately and without him, Geralt probably wouldn't have come this far. For Dandelion's sake and out of gratitude, Geralt had decided to inform him whenever he was making progress.  
"Huh? If this is reliable information, Whoreson's neck deep in shit. He wiped his arse with our agreement. That's betrayal regardless of his allegiance."  
"I told you because I need someone who can get me in to see Junior. Surely you still have some contacts among the Redanians?"  
"I don't..." Geralt sensed that he wasn't being exactly truthful but decided to wait out the rest of his answer. "... but you do." Now that was a surprise.  
"Enlighten me."  
"Temerian. Former commander of the Blue Stripes... Ring a bell?" Of course it did.  
"Vernon Roche."  
"He's holed up with a handful of men in a camp near Oxenfurt. Pay him a visit. You're sure to cheer him up at least."  
_Cheer him up?_ Geralt wondered what his old friend could possibly do in Novigrad and moreso as a Redanian. He remembered their long and bloody hunt for Letho, the murderer of King Foltest, as if it was yesterday. He remembered being locked up in the LaValette dungeon and his escape that was only made possible by the commander of the Blue Stripes. Events in Flotsam, Vergen and Loc Muinne followed, most of them unpleasant ones. Even more for Roche who not only lost his king but also his men and he had committed regicide. The worst of all crimes. Last he saw him with Anais LaValette and John Natalis mounting a last Temerian stand against Nilfgaard.  
Still a bit captured in his memories the witcher left the bathhouse.  
"Thanks Dijkstra. See you."

2

Roach was in a fine mood to gallop through the ever peaceful fields around the outskirts of Novigrad. The sun was setting and painted the world in a beautiful orange only bards like Dandelion could properly describe. (To be honest, Dandelion would probably compare it to a woman's oh so beautiful... whatever). Geralt seldom was one to admire natur's beauty, but he enjoyed the afternoon right now very much. He headed southeast for he knew not the exact location of the Temerian's encampment. Finding it shouldn't be too hard for a witcher though. Reaching a clear forest his witcher senses once again presented him with an overkill of sounds and scents: Ignoring the usual chirping of a multitude of birds or the humming of many more insects, the muffled sounds of deer's hooves on the grass or even the light breathing of a pack of sleeping wolves, he heard men talking in a distance. Great, the forest was just where he would expect an army encampment to be. Following the noise he came to a clearing that lead to a cave. He dismounted and calmy walked towards the entrance, where a middle-aged man in a Temerian armor suit stood guard. He readied his weapon the moment he saw the witcher. Geralt caught a glimpse inside the cave and noticed a few wooden fortifications and a handful of other guards. Nothing that would make him think that an army of highly skilled warriors lied in wait inside, though. It looked more like a partisan hideout.  
"Lookin' for Roche." Geralt kept his statement as simple as his request was. The other man already had an answer on the ready.  
"No one here by that name. Anything else?" _Fine_ , Geralt thought, _I'll play along._  
"I see. And behind you – that's a berry picker's camp?"  
"We're ... uh, birdwatchers."  
"Lemme guess: That sword is in case you run into a hornbill?"  
"No." The guard's tone sounded a bit more threatening. "Hornbills aren't endemic to this area. They don't _migrate_ here either."  
Just as Geralt was starting to get really annoyed, a familiar voice interrupted them.  
"Are you dumb?" The witcher would've recognized Vernon Roche alone by the tone of his voice – steady, deep and bearing heavy authority.  
"That's Geralt of Rivia, step aside!" The commander emerged from the cave to greet Geralt with a warm, strong handshake. The guard stepped aside and Geralt followed his old friend inside. Roche hadn't changed one bit. He still wore his blue Temerian gambeson and even his chaperon was present.  
"It's nice to see you, Roche." The Temerian smiled but looked deadly serious.  
"You too Geralt, although I didn't exactly expected you to show up here. I assume you are here for a specific reason?"  
"Like, what? Maybe I've simply wanted to see an old friend again and chat about the good ol' times?" Roche smirked and shook his head.  
"All right, you got me." Geralt crossed his arms and continued. "I'm looking for Whoreson Junior."  
"I've heard of him. Though I'm not sure why you assume he's in my camp."  
"I don't. But you seem to have some of the same friends. Radovid for instance." Roche sighted but nodded.  
"I am cooperating with Radovid but that doesn't make me his friend. He's no better than Emhyr."  
"Since when are you even working with the Redanians? As I recall it, Radovid wanted you dead for handing Anais to Natalis."  
"You're right, he did." Roche suddenly moved past Geralt, heading for the entrance of the cave. "But we've got time to exchange stories later."  
"Why? Are we going somewhere?" Geralt took a step forward but then stopped, awaiting an answer.  
"Well..." Roche turned around, facing the witcher once more. Geralt didn't know why, but Roche seemed to smile at him. And Roche never ever smiled. "As coincidence would have it, I am just about to meet my Redanian contact at a chess club near Oxenfurt. I wouldn't mind you tagging along."  
"Must be my lucky day." Geralt jested and they went for the opening when another familiar one stopped them. The feminine voice sounded too calm and soft for a place like this, filled with fighting men, even now that it was determined. "Roche, I cannot abandon them, I..."  
The young woman stopped as soon as she saw the witcher and Geralt and Roche turned around. Ves had become even more beautiful in Geralt's eyes and he nodded and smiled to greet her. She seemed to be positively surprised by Geralt's unannounced presence but before she could react, Roche stepped between them, his voice hard and commanding.  
"You can and must. Because those are your orders." Ves regained her former determination and looked up at her commander.  
"They'll die, please!"  
"We're done. Dismissed." And with a sharp gesture he ordered Ves to leave. She looked disappointed, maybe even a little sad, but she obeyed without hesitation. Roche rejoined the witcher, looking a little worried but said nothing and mounted a horse.

3

As the evening approached, the red setting sun had an even stronger poetic influence on their sourroundings. Geralt and Roche could rely on the road to lead them straight to Oxenfurt and while it was quite a distance, they had all the time to talk. They talked about what happened in Vergen and Loc Muinne and Geralt recounted in his mind the death toll his friends and enemies alike had to pay. Aryan LaValette, Cedric, Bernard Loredo, Stennis, The Blue Stripes, Henselt, Dethmold... and many nameless soldiers. How many? He could not even guess. Truly, a mortician had buried fewer bodies than they had during these days. Geralt took comfort in thinking that there were also some they could safe. There were the nonhumans in Flotsam... and Anais...  
"How's Temeria's future queen faring?" Geralt asked.  
"She will be a good queen, I am sure. She is only a child, true, but she got it into her head that she will not suffer the same fate as her father. Trains day and night with a wooden sword and Natalis introduced her to the world of politics."  
"What brought you here then?" Roche looked down. He seemed deep in thought as he recounted, "Life at the court... that's not meant for me. I can't stand council meetings. The power struggles of highborn aristocrats make me sick just when I think about them. So when Nilfgaard crossed the Yaruga, I dropped everything and joined Natalis to fight the Black Ones right at the frontline. We were to stop them along the Dol Blathanna – Mount Carbon line...". He paused and his expression turned even more serious. "... and we did. For three days. Then they smashed us into splinters. Soon after, word got out that Radovid was assembling forces near Novigrad to fight for a free north. I came here with the remains of Natalis' army."  
"Turns out it wasn't quite what you imagined."  
"Who could have known what a fanatical tyrant Radovid has become? His religious mania has grown worse, he has become paranoid and unforgiving. Didn't forget I betrayed him when I denied him Anais. For now he cooperates with me, tolerates my presence but I just sense that, when the war is won, he will dispose of everyone who's not needed anymore. Plus, I'm wanted for regicide in Kaedwen which is, by now, occupied by Redania."  
"Do they even have prove?"  
"They _know_ , Geralt. I just wait for it to be official, to see my face on placards and arrest warrants all over Novigrad. I can live with that, though." Geralt remembered a saying he heard some time ago in Vizima. _If Vernon Roche got an Oren from every foe he had made, he could buy Temeria together with its nearby lands. And if each of his friends came to bury him, he would have to do it himself._ The witcher decided to change the topic.  
"What do you do these days then? Still hunting Scoia'tael?" The commander looked at him in an awkward way.  
"You jest right? Who cares about the Scoia'tael these days? Temeria, that's what matters." Geralt couldn't help himself but to laugh a bit as he replied.  
"So here you are: Vernon Roche, Temerias last hope." Roche normally would have made an unpleasant comment, but to Geralt's surprise he reacted rather friendly.  
"Laugh all you want. Temeria will rise again." Geralt kept grinning. It was actually pretty sad, that Roche fought an already lost battle, but the seriousness by which he declared he could actually win with his two dozen soldiers, was unmatched. Geralt feared the man at his side would bark back and was prepared for the worst of all scoldings.  
"What's so funny, Geralt? Go on, tell me your story and I'll make sure to fall off my horse simply out of _amusement_." Holy shit, did the ever-grim commander just make a joke? In the past, Vernon Roche would have punched anybody right in the face who'd make fun of his ideals, his country.  
"When did you become so adorable, Vernon?" The witcher laughed as he saw Roche's face freeze for a moment and even heard his heartbeat stop for an ounce. He had never seen the commander that speechless before. Then he recovered and smiled.  
"Don't say that in public, witcher! I've a reputation to uphold."  
"Tell me about it!"  
"Oh, shut up and tell me what you've been up to! Have you found that sorceress of yours?" Roche's delightful smile slowly faded and he turned to his more usual, deliberate mood as Geralt summed up his quest so far.  
"Yeah, I've found Yen. Well, she found me, to be honest. Now we're searching for Ciri, who is like a daughter to us. She... she's in danger." He paused. How to best explain it? "The Wild Hunt is after her and frankly, we don't know where to look. "  
"The Wild Hunt? You don't mean...?"  
"They are real, Vernon! I've met them. They are Aen Elle elves and for some reason need the elder blood. Ciri is cursed with Lara Dorren's gift and has apparently been fleeing them for several years now. From what I've heard from Yennefer though, her escape may have come to an end."  
"You must have some clues as to her whereabouts?"  
"Actually we've got several. There has been reports of an ashen haired girl in Velen, Novigrad and Skellige. Looked in Velen already and that trail's gone cold. Yennefer went to Skellige a few weeks ago and I'll meet her there once I've made sure Ciri is not in Novigrad."  
"Found out anything yet?"  
"An oneiromancer had a vision of Ciri meeting an old friend of mine. But when do things ever work out smoothly?"  
"What happened?"  
"Well, my friend has gone missing and I had to question a whole lotta bunch o' people to point me into Whoreson Junior's direction."  
"But you can't find Junior. Geralt, let me get this straight... You need to talk to my Redanian contact to find Whoreson Junior to find your friend to find your daughter?" Roche smirked when Geralt nodded. "And just mere seconds ago you said _my_ story was funny." Geralt just realized how right he was. He never thought about it but right now, this whole search seemed kind of absurd. He couldn't prevent himself from chuckling and Roche smiled, looking very content.  
"Fine, when you sum it up just like that it may seem a little odd. You didn't fall off your horse though." Geralt observed.  
"Nor do I intend to. Would be more fun for you anyway."  
"Well that's an understatement!" Geralt laughed but was interrupted when another thought crossed the Temerian's mind.  
"What about Triss?"  
"What about her?" Still irritated by the quick change of subject, Geralt only understood what Roche was on about, after he had already answered.  
"Well, I mean... since you and Yennefer seem to be..."  
"It's complicated." It very much was indeed. Triss and him had been lovers since his amnesia and he still liked the lovely redhead but... the kind of love he knew for Yennefer was just stronger, truer. It just felt like Yennefer was the woman he was _supposed_ to spend his days with. Like, if there was any truth about one's love of a life, his would be the raven-haired sorceress of Vengerberg. Yeah, yeah, he knew that it was possibly the wish controlling his feelings but who cares if these feelings seemed so right? Meeting Triss again after their break up in Loc Muinne has been awfully weird. Geralt was never the best when it came to reading emotions but even he could still see the longing in Triss' eyes. She did still love him. Didn't make things easier at all.  
"Geralt?" Roche asked, reminding the witcher of his presence and waking him up from his dream-like thoughts.  
"Mh-m?"  
"Is it _that_ complicated?"  
"You have no idea, Roche. By the way, what about you? Come to think of it, I never asked you about your..." Geralt automatically had to think of Dandelion and came to use one of his words "... conquests."  
"Nothing worth mentioning, really." Roche shifted in his saddle and Geralt noticed his heartbeat increase. Was the commander just getting nervous?  
"You sure?"  
"What kind of question is that, Geralt?" The Temerian didn't sound angry but confused. Geralt would have believed every word if it wasn't for that rapid heartbeat, that betrayed the Blue Stripes' captain. Geralt couldn't prevent himself from smiling.  
"Well, you seem to be kind of nervous." Roche's heart went crazy as he replied.  
"No, I'm not!" Worst answer ever, and both knew that. Geralt continued to smile joyously and looked at his friend. He didn't know why Roche was acting so weird but it amused him. He raised his eyebrows, awaiting a better answer.  
"Stop that, Geralt!" It didn't sound threatening at all since Geralt's cheerful smile had infected the Temerian, who now tried his best to control his emotions. The Rivian was about to make another comment when Roche suddenly remarked:  
"Look, witcher. We're there!" They came by the stone bridge leading to Oxenfurt and Geralt already saw a handful of Redanian soldiers sourrounding the said chessclub, where their meeting had been arranged.  
"You have just been very lucky, my friend." Geralt smirked while dismounting at the foot of the bridge.  
"For once, you mean?" Roche jumped off his horse and together they crossed the bridge above the Pontar. The commander seemed to be less and less relaxed as they passed the Redanians and neared their destination.  
"That contact of yours, who is he?" Geralt wanted to know, repressing his voice.  
"Slippery little bugger. I'd have nothing to do with him were the circumstances any different."  
"Means you don't trust him?"  
"I trust no one, Geralt. Let's just get this over with. I wanna leave as soon as possible."  
"Right."  
They approached the chessclub that was heavily guarded by both Redanian soldiers and witch hunters. How come a contact needed that amount of protection? As the men spotted the arrivers, they stiffed and had their arms on the ready. No one said a word so the witcher and the commander proceeded. Roche looked around nervously as if he expected to be stabbed in due time. "Something's not right." He whispered. As if Geralt hadn't noticed. They walked towards the open door of the stone house, that was indeed pretty large but otherwise didn't make a big impression. "Let's see what." Geralt said and without any more hesitation, they entered the chessclub.

4

King Radovid V the Stern of Redania and Kaedwen, some called him the saviour of the north while everyone else called him a madman, was not the one either of them had expected to see. The young monarch leaned over a board of chess, one figure in his hand. He probably did notice his new guests but didn't let them know. He watched the chess board as if it was a battlefield and calculated where the wooden game part in his hand could deal the most damage. A smile hit his expression, as if a vital idea just found the way to his brain. With his other hand he threw a figure off the panel sending it to the floor. Finally he moved the queen and placed it onto the other side of the board, throwing off yet another chessman. "Checkmate." He said to himself, looking kind of content. Then he turned his head around to look at Geralt and Roche. To be in sudden view of the monarch made both of them feel uneasy. The king didn't waste time with formalities.  
"They say it's the game of kings. That chess teaches one to think strategically." He focused on the game once more and paused. Roche quickly turned his head to look at Geralt. The witcher shared his insecurity and both tried not to show any signs of it as soon as Radovid continued.  
"What a load of rubbish! Both sides have identical pieces, the rules stay invariably the same. How does this mirror real life? Witcher, do you know why I play chess?" How should he know? The better question would be _Why do I play chess with myself?_ , anyway.  
"To spend time in good company?" Geralt moved towards the king for this seemed about the right thing to do. He had come here for a reason, nontheless. Also, he wasn't afraid of Radovid and since it was the king who chose to meet them, he obviously wanted something too. He waited until Geralt stood in front of him, watching his every move on the way. Then he calmy said:  
"A king cherishes no one's company." He made a gesture, suggesting Geralt to have a seat. Except kings do not suggest, so Geralt sat down in the chair on the other end of the chess game.  
"I play chess to reveal the game's secret. Blood pumps inside these chessmen. You need only listen – and you will hear. Dub-Dub, Dub-Dub, Dub-Dub." Radovid didn't once look up from the board as he mimicked the sounds of a pumping heart. Geralt started to understand why everyone rumoured about Radovid's fading mental health.  
"I take a pawn and I hear flesh being rent. I win a piece and I hear screams from the depth of his bowels." As the king continued, still attracted to the miniature battlefield in front of him, Geralt and Roche exchanged another view. They were of the same opinion – This king has gone beyond the point of insanity. Suddenly, Radovid addressed the witcher again.  
"You see what I mean?" Geralt decided to be honest.  
"No I don't." was his neutral way of saying _How the fuck should I know what you're babbling about you madman?_  
"You do not because you are not a king. Pawns see only their comrades at their sides and their foes across a field. A king has a different view on the chessboard. His greatest enemies sourround him, it's his own chessmen that might trap him. Do you see now?" _Yes, you're unreasonably paranoid and beyond help, your majesty._  
"Yes, I think I do now."  
"Unimportant. Let us speak." His change of tone was as radical as was his sudden urge to stand up. The king moved a few steps towards Roche.  
"Why have you brought the witcher here?"  
"I think he'd best explain." Graced with Radovid's eyes on him again, the witcher explained while leaving his chair.  
"I'm looking for Cyprian Wily, Whoreson Junior. I know Redania supports him."  
"Why do you seek him?" Geralt decided not to tell the whole story if he didn't have to.  
"That's personal."  
"Fair enough. I'll not pry." The monarch turned around and seemed to measure his answer. His decision as to what to tell the witcher came rather quickly though.  
"I have placed Junior in a mansion in Oxenfurt. Very few know this." Geralt's suspicion suddenly raised to a maximum.  
"You'd just give me a man? Can't help but wonder why."  
"Consider it a gesture of good will... almost. I'll expect you to return the favor." Great, Geralt was just awaiting the chance to do another king's bidding. This whole thing turned out to include much more politics than he had wished for.  
"Now go. And you, Roche..." He looked at the commander, his gaze icy cold. One could easily notice he highly disliked the Temerian. "... we must speak another time." The commander nodded and the two men withdrew from the chessclub, leaving the mad king alone with his chessmen. 

The witch hunters let them pass and on their way back towards the bridge, Roche finally spoke freely again. "Radovid's sinking ever deeper into madness as I see it." Geralt nodded.  
"Agreed. He did tell me where I can find Junior though and I don't really care beyond that."  
"Geralt... I know you are in kind of a hurry to find Whoreson right now but..." The witcher halted, looking at the Temerian. He knew Roche. He knew the man was hardly ever to say _Please,_ and saw it on his face, that he was just urging to ask him for help. He waited, signaled to be listening, so the commander hesitantly continued.  
"... I wanted to ask you a favor. It's about Ves."


	2. Unexpected Company

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story continues and I now wrote from Roche's point of view. I love writing from different perspectives and I guess I'll be doing it a lot from now on :-)

1

Roche had always hated to ask for help. To him it was the same as begging and he wanted to beg no more. Sometimes though, there was no other way. He realized he could need his witcher friend to prevent Ves from letting herself get killed. Roche loved her like a little sister and he would not lose her.  
"What's wrong with her?" Roche knew he could count on Geralt's help. When he decided to trust him a few months ago in the LaValette dungeon, he had acted out of intuition. He had sacrificed his position and risked his life just to free a witcher who was suspected to be a regicide. It had payed out.  
"She plans to attack some Nilfgaardians in Mulbrydale." Geralt simply shrugged while answering.  
"So? Sounds about just what guerilla fighters do."  
"Yes, when they're ordered to. Whereas I forbade her to leave the camp."  
"Insubordination then – is that your problem?" The witcher looked awfully unconvinced.  
"It's more than that, Geralt." He crossed his arms and lowered his head. "After Henselt had the Blue Stripes massacred and Ves defiled, she didn't seem to be quite herself anymore. She feels horrible guilt for being the only survivor and has become reckless. Sometimes she just rushes into battle without wearing proper armour or takes on two foes at once. Or even both. It's just a matter of time until she makes one false move and... gets herself killed. I've got my hands full with problems even without her feeling suicidal."  
"And you need me to...?" Geralt made a cute hand gesture and waited for Roche to finish the question for him. The commander didn't hesitate.  
"To talk some sense into her. She is unlikely to have already entered the village. We must find her before she does. And stop her."  
"How do you even know she actually went to Mulbrydale? We did meet her in your camp after all."  
"I know her. She was never one to follow orders, she is hot-headed and impulsive." _And I just have the feeling I need to protect her._ He had rescued Ves a few years back. She was being held prisoner by a band of Scoia'tael whose leader spared her because he enjoyed raping her so much. The pointy-eared son a bitch hadn't been granted the quickest of all deaths, Vernon had personally made sure of that. With having nowhere to go to, Ves joined the Blue Stripes. Roche had trained the orphaned girl and since she showed quite the courage and potencial, she soon became second in command.  
"Reminds me of someone I know." Geralt concluded and smiled at him. That always was a nice thing to see. "Count me in, Roche."  
"Thanks Geralt. I'll owe you a favor." Relieved, the commander could finally smile back. With the witcher by his side, he was sure to convince the rebellious young woman.  
"Ves most likely will attack after dusk, so we need to hurry." 

2

They rode on horseback towards Mulbrydale while the crimson sun already seeked shelter above the horizon. It probably had one hour left before it would hide to reveal the night's sky. Presuming Ves would attack just then, one hour was more then enough time for the duo. Mulbrydale was the closest village heading west from Oxenfurt. As they passed by a small settlement, which likely was to be a stonecutter's site, Geralt raised another question.  
"Why Mulbrydale? Why'd Ves go there?" The witcher's voice sounded calm and controlled as always. Roche kind of liked it. He thought it sounded pleasant.  
"The peasants from the village aided us earlier. The Nilfgaardians learned of this. Word got out they're planning a punitive expedition, probably hang every fifth villager." Geralt took a few seconds before answering.  
"Honestly, Ves' desire to save the villagers makes sense. Why are you opposing?" Roche sighted.  
"War means death. Not only for the soldiers but for the common folk as well. You can't save them all. I don't like it either but it's that simple." He looked over to Geralt. The Rivian didn't seem to agree.  
"Funny, had you for an idealist."  
"You were right to... are right to. But I have only one ideal – a free Temeria. And I'm willing to sacrifice anything for it." As soon as he had spoken the last part, he regretted saying it. Not because it wasn't true, but because it was. The commander wasn't one to be haunted by his conscience, he rarely ever mourned a slain foe. He could distinguish good from evil though. Sometimes he wondered if he could live in peace once the war was won. In a free Temeria, after everything he'd done, what was there to live for?  
"You're wrong." Geralt's abrupt remark completely caught him off-guard. _Wrong about what?_  
"Pardon me?"  
"You're not prepared to sacrifice everything for your country. I don't think you'd abandon your men or your friends. And definitely not Ves." Roche's mood was elevated by the witcher's surprising faith in him, although he wasn't quite as convinced himself.  
"What makes you think that?" Geralt smiled again.  
"I just know you're not that heartless prick you pretend to be. After all, why are we even out here? Say what you will, but your prime objective is to keep Ves safe, isn't it?"  
"I... guess you may be right." _Thank you._  
Then they reached the Hanged Man's Tree, which probably was the most fitting name any tree had ever been granted. They halted the horses underneath it and got down. Mulbrydale looked as peaceful as it was possible for a village in a war-torn land like Velen. They wouldn't be fooled by first impressions though. With sunset yet to approach they kept watching the settlement below to come up with a battle strategy.  
"Black with Nilfgaardians already." Roche commented as he focused on a small square that formed the center of the village. "They're preparing to execute folk." He was right then. Now that they were here, they could likewise dispose of the intruders.  
"No sign of Ves." Geralt noticed.  
"I told you she's not stupid. I reckon she's waiting for her moment and -"  
"Shhh!"  
"What now?" Roche didn't hear a thing but then again, he forgot how much more superiour Geralt's witcher senses could prove to be.  
"A trio. Lightly equipped. Sneaking closer. Over there near the..." Before he could finish, his witcher senses were no longer needed as both of them heard a young female voice scream. "Death to the Black Ones!" Roche heard a Nilfgaardian battlecry answer and sighted in resentment. He exchanged an unbelieving view with Geralt before both drew their swords and ran to join the fight. She only took two lads with her. Did she really have a death wish?  
Geralt was faster than Roche and had already enganged an imperial soldier when the Temerian arrived at the fighting ground. Geralt and him had fought many battles side by side so they knew they made a formidable duo. Thus, the soldier blocking their way didn't have the chance to put up that much of a fight and was beheaded with a single, rapid slash of a witcher's steel blade. They ran towards the midpoint of the battle and came across two already slewn Nilfgaardians but also several villagers that had probably been executed long before.  
Ves and her men were sourrounded. One of the lads was cleary panicking and wouldn't be able to keep up his defense for much longer. Like a whirlwind Geralt came to their aid and single-handedly killed three of the soldiers. Roche had decided to stay behind and readied his crossbow to be able to cover both Geralt and Ves at the same time. Turned out to be just the right idea. Geralt had let his defense down to keep the soldiers away from Ves, allowing him to be left vulnerable. Two Black Ones tried to strike the occupied witcher from behind and both took an arrow through their necks. Then he saw the shielded nilfgaardian commander engange Ves. She was hit with the bronze shield and fell to the ground. She wore no armour. That was just typical! The Nilfgaardian in front of her raised his sword to finish her off. A deadly bolt prevented him from doing so. Roche had aimed very carefully and hadn't missed the man's face that was his target. Ves rolled to a side and stood up shakily. She turned her head to look at her commander and nodded in appreciation. He didn't have the time to tend to her just yet due to the last remaining enemies whom Geralt had taken on. The witcher surely would have done fine on his own, but Roche shot one of them to make sure his friend would take no harm. As the last Nilfgaardian fell under the Rivian's sword, the group slowly assembled. Roche thanked the gods Ves was unharmed but his anger immediately replaced his relief as he approached her.  
"Gods dammit Ves! Have you gone completly mental!? You ignore my orders, go off on a suicide mission. And instead of donning a breastplate you dash into battle, shirt open, navel and whatnot exposed!" He couldn't help but adress it. She should have been more careful. The woman placed her hands on her hips and countered instantly.  
"You're not my father, Roche! You've no right to tell me what to wear."  
"No, I'm not. But I _am_ your commander and you will obey me." She didn't seem to be impressed.  
"I could not abandon them. They helped us." Roche shook his head. This woman's stubbornness was enough to turn him crazy.  
"It's a soldier's job to kill, Ves. Not save, not rescue. If that is not to your liking, join the sisters of Melitele, study to be a healer. Fucking hell!" Ves was clever enough to stop arguing and looked down. "Gimme your weapon! You'll get it back when you wise up. _If_ you wise up." Without complaints she handed her sword to Roche, looking slightly insecure. She took a step backwards and Roche was calming down. As he was about to turn to Geralt, a sound seemingly from out of the grave drew their attention. A hostile soldier had survived and spat out some blood as he lay on the ground, held down by his own armour. He mumbled incomprehensibles in the nilfgaardian dialect of his.  
"Looks like you've got yourself a prisoner." Geralt plainly made out. Ves from behind them did not agree.  
"We don't take no prisoners. You took my weapon, Roche. So I must manage with my bare hands."  
"Leave him alone." The commander demanded. "There are corpses enough here."  
"What?" Ves seemed speechless.  
"You've heard me."  
"I did and I can't believe it!" Roche couldn't either, to be honest. In all his life he had never spared an enemy willingly. And this injured man in front of them was not only an enemy but a Nilfgaardian. But sparing people seemed to be what Geralt would do if he had the chance. After all, the witcher has been of vital help and deserved not to witness another murder. He remembered their conversation from before and the Rivian would surely approve of a good deed. Maybe Roche could even impress him by going so much out of his usual way? _Oh, what am I thinking again?_ Luckily Ves kept talking to remind him of the present.  
"He came here to murder civilians! He's seen us. Will you let him go back to his camp and report?"  
"Emhyr knows we can kill his men. Let him learn we can also show mercy."  
"Vernon's right." Geralt finally spoke up to support his Temerian friend. "Besides, killing a defenseless -"  
"What is it with you, Roche? Did the witcher took your stones?" Ves was desperate. "They're sadists. They're the occupiers!" Roche didn't react. He took one step closer to the the wounded and simply told him to _piss off_. Given the degree of his wounds it was uncertain if the Black One even could make it to the next Nilfgaardian outpost. That was not Roche's problem though. The defeated seemed to be pretty grateful and tried to thank the commander in his southern language. Roche couln'd make out a word he said, but the sound of that speech annoyed him. It reminded him of the ploughing Scoia'tael again and it was just fitting that both of his most hated enemies shared a tongue.  
"Go. Before I change my mind." He turned back to Ves and Geralt and they left Mulbrydale the way they arrived. 

Roche was leading the way with the men and woman following when the witcher catched up to talk to him.  
"Nice show just then. Where'd your sudden empathy come from?" Roche looked at his friend.  
"Remember what we spoke about on our way here? That I'd sacrifice anything for Temeria?"  
"And?" Geralt seemed curious and Roche kept looking at him.  
"I reckon I wouldn't want to live in a kingdom which foundation was built by steel and blood alone. True, wars must be fought, foes have to be slain. But there are limits. Temeria knows better than to act as ruthless as Nilfgaard. And no one should remember me as a mass murderer who takes pleasure in killing."  
"Whoa..." Geralt raised his eyebrows. "I'm impressed, Roche. Didn't expect that from you of all people." Geralt smiled and Roche couldn't resist to do so either. _Ha, he is impressed_. He didn't know what to answer so he looked down but kept smiling. He felt his heartbeat increase again as his blood rushed through his veins in escalating speed. _No, not again, not again._ The Temerian was never the best at hiding his emotions but most of the time it didn't bother him. When he got angry he'd shout at someone or sometimes even destroy furniture or whatever was unlucky enough to be in range. When he got depressed he'd mostly lock himself up somewhere and pretend to be angry so no one would notice. But right now, this rather strange feeling could not be suppressed by rage. He knew what it was, of course, and he didn't deny it. He had already experienced it once. He had been a mere boy of fourteen years by then and didn't have any real friends. His mother had to raise him alone and her only way to make money to be able to feed them with was by... selling her body to be defiled by drunkards, soldiers and perverts. As if that wasn't hard enough for him already, the other kids constantly kept reminding him - anybody calling him 'whore's son' nowadays would have to bleed for it. Yet not _all_ the others were assholes. There was this one boy... Blonde, brown eyes, expensive clothes. He was a little older than him and well educated. They first met on the market. He was the only one that treated young Vernon like an equal person although it was evident by his clothing that their parents' earnings more than differed. Roche didn't know what it was back then when his heart started pounding faster whenever they spoke. All he grasped was that there was something special about this wealthy juvenile. Something that made him enjoy the sole sight of him. Unfortunately the good boy was gone as soon as he came. Apparently his father was some kind of merchant who traveled constantly and his son was to take on his business one day. Roche didn't even know his name. He was so beat down the moment he was gone, although he didn't even know exactly why. As he finally realized later on, the truth came like a shock. He grew older and unlike the others showed no interest in girls. He had heard sayings of men loving other men and how unnatural it was. The church of the eternal Fire, whose priests secretly ruled his hometown, preached about how vile and filthy practices like that would offend the very will of the gods. The worst of all, Roche started to believe them. He began to think he had been cursed by the gods the very moment he was born. He became an adult and while he managed to make something out of his life, he only ever partially overcame that particular thought. And he had never told anybody. Not the men he fancied, not Ves and not even his mother when she was still alive. Sometimes he'd put up a show, make comments about women so no one would raise a suspicion. It had worked. All the time. He never had have any problems with it either. The strange feeling he had had towards the merchant boy stayed unique. Soldiers came and went, most of them simple men, not to be admired. But then a certain witcher crossed his path at King Foltest's court. Roche couldn't stand the Rivian at first due to him being a witcher and all. Somehow he believed him nontheless when he came to investigate the circumstances of Foltest's demise. On their hunt for the kingslayer the witcher won his trust. Now he was about to win his heart.  
"I'll head back to Oxenfurt now, see if I can't find Junior." Said witcher collected his horse underneath the Hanged Man's Tree but turned around again. Roche nodded.  
"We should head back too, before a patrol comes along." They shook hands to pronounce their good-byes. "Thank you, Geralt. If you ever need any help, you know where to find me." The witcher mounted his mare.  
"I'll be sure to remember that. Take care. You too, Ves." The young woman took a step closer and came to stand besides her commander. She looked up to face the white-haired man.  
"I've been rude, Geralt. Sorry. I owe you my life. If you ever feel the urge to hunt down Nilfgaardians or just want to chat, come visit us." She looked at Roche and the commander couldn't have put it into any better words. To be sincere, he was glad it was Ves who invited him back. He nodded and concluded:  
"I hope you find your daughter, witcher. Good luck on the path."  
"Guess I'll be needing that the most." The witcher made the bay horse turn around and with a last friendly smile he rode off on his way back to Oxenfurt. Roche sighted both in grief and relief. On the one hand he hoped to see Geralt again soon but on the other feared that someday he wouldn't be able to keep his emotions at bay. Not to imagine what would happen if anyone found out. Men and women should have each other, that's the way nature wanted humankind to live, wasn't it? Then why was he so different? What purpose did his feelings serve him if forever they had to be be kept hidden? Roche would jump at the chance to confess, to finally talk openly to a man he liked and see him return the feeling. He knew however, that he would die with regrets, that he would either forever suppress his emotions or be treated with disgust and hatred and maybe end on a pyre if he told the wrong person. Rather pretend not to feel anything then. Sentiments be forsaken, they're not worth dog shit anyway, gods dammit!  
"What did you mean by that?" Ves spoke up again and luckily, Roche could guess what she meant despite being distracted by his own thoughts again.  
"Geralt seeks his daughter, it's a long story. Details later. Where did you leave your horses?" Roche mounted his own, eager to head back to their hideout.  
"Didn't brought any."  
"What? Why not?" Ves shrugged.  
"Thought we'd not get noticed that way."  
"Have it your way then. We'll walk." _Won't take too long anyway._ The commander got down again and joined Ves and the two lads. _Still glad you're alive, Ves._ It wasn't anything he'd ever say aloud but as he looked her in the eyes it was all she needed to know. Before she looked back down again, her expression unmistakenly meant _I know, Roche. I know._

3

Geralt made haste to reach his destination. The small forest he rode through already seemed to burst with waking monster's sounds. They all came out of their caves and holes to feast once the darkness set in. When men slept they turned swamps and forests into their hunting grounds. Foglets, Vampires, Drowners, Wraiths and Wolfs to name a few. Not that any of them would present particular danger to the experienced monster slayer but he was getting tired and just wanted to deal with Whoreson Junior without any more delay. Roach was exhausted since Geralt had driven him to gallop the whole way from the Hanged Man's Tree. The witcher allowed the faithful mare to go slower and patted her on the neck. As they followed the mutty trail, Geralt suddenly noticed another couple of sounds. He looked up in front of him. Something crawled through the trees but with great virtuosity to produce only the quietest of noises. He heard light, controlled breathing. Humans, four of them. Elves, more likely for tree crawling wasn't excatly a known behaviour for other races. Geralt had noticed them too late. If they were armed, and he assumed they were, he already had four arrows pointed at him which were too many to parry even for him. Roach trotted further and the Rivian wondered what was taking the nonhumans so long.  
"Halt!" _Finally. Let's see what they're up to._ Geralt commanded the horse to stop and watched as an elven archer emerged from the treetop to descend on a branch lit by the fading sunlight. Scoia'tael. Geralt didn't wait for him to announce himself.  
"What do you want?"  
"You're a witcher." It was an observation, not a question.  
"I am. Why? Got a contract for me?" The elf smirked as the sarcasm in Geralt's tone was obvious.  
"Of a sort." The elf watched him but added no more. The witcher sighted, he was slightly getting annoyed.  
"Whatever it is, I'm not interrested."  
"That I can imagine." The elf crouched on the branch. "Unlucky for you, we're not gonna give you a choice. Either you follow us now and agree to our leader's terms... or my men have you pierced with arrows. What'll it be?" _Great, just yet another inconvenience._  
"Let me just think about it. You know what, you convinced me."  
The elven man held up his hand to signal the archers to lower their bows. As they all descended from the trees, Geralt dismounted. He left Roach behind to go with his capturers. They took his swords but the witcher was surprised that they didn't blindfold him, allowing him to see the path leading to their camp hidden in the woods. Even without his weapons he could defeat them all now. Lacking the advantage of their trees, the elves were only average fighters, who would not stand a chance against the Butcher of Blaviken. Still, they might have simply shot him a few minutes ago and a word once given would not be broken by Geralt of Rivia. At least not under circumstances like as such.  
It took them ten minutes to reach the surprisingly impressive elven camp. It was located in the middle of the woods and consisted not only of tents and fireplaces but also of wooden treehouses that were connected by masterfully crafted bridges and ladders that created an entire little village above the forest's ground. His mutated eyes enabled Geralt to behold it in all it's beauty. An ordinary man would probably have trouble finding the settlement if he knew not were to look, for almost no torches enlightened the inhabitancy and fireplaces were well covered. If the witcher would be to guess, he'd have placed his bet on an estimated one hundred inhabitants. A remarkable elven battleforce, going by partisan standarts.  
He followed the men up a rope ladder and walked the wooden platform leading around a grand oak and ending in an entrance to a tree house. This respective building stood out from the rest by being slightly bigger, obviously making it the leader's abode. Not having attained the door yet, Geralt could already make out active talk inside the leader's habitation. A somehow familiar male voice sounded rather stressed as the user was about to explain something.  
"My decision stands and I can't quite comprehend why you're suddenly so contradicting. It was you who suggested the assault after all, remember?"  
"Of course I remember..." That was Triss' voice that had just answered! Geralt knew one couldn't ever wonder enough when it came to sorceresses but Triss never ceased to surprise him. Her voice sounded determined yet meant to reconcile nontheless. "... it's not the assault I'm against. I just think we need a better strategy."  
"Our current plan will more than suffice, trust me. There's no point in waiting."  
"I do trust you but there is. You just refuse to see it's relevance."  
"Because the mages can defend themselves."  
"See? That's exactly what I mean. They're not as powerful as I am, most of them are amateurs or not even magic users at all. The eternal fire brands them as mages where in fact they are only alchemists."  
"So they'll suffer even more the longer we keep waiting."  
"I want to know that they're safe before the situation gets even more drastic."  
"I get it and I honor your nobility but believe me for once when I assure you that they're all better off if we do it my way."  
The conversation has been getting lively yet never rough. Whomever Triss was talking to seemed to be friendly towards Geralt's former lover. One of the archers that had brought Geralt to this very doorstep stepped in front of it and knocked.  
"We'll decide later." Triss whispered before saying audibly, "You may enter!"  
Geralt's capturer opened the door and went in first yet the witcher waited no longer and followed. Before any more words could have been spoken, the White Wolf saw whom Triss had been talking to. He knew the elf and never thought to see him again.  
"Iorveth. That's one hell of a surprise!" The Scoia'tael leader crossed his arms. He didn't change the tone of his voice at all as he replied.  
"Geralt of Rivia."  
"Geralt!" Triss ran over to the witcher and placed herself between the two. Geralt took his eyes off the Squirrel to face the redhead. He frowned badly.  
"Triss, what's going on here?"  
"Relax, Geralt, I'll explain everything. First of all rest assured that the Scoia'tael are not your enemies."  
"Then why'd they take my weapons?" Geralt flashed a death glare to the archers that had brought him here, but it was Iorveth who replied.  
"To make sure _you_ are not _ours._ " Geralt stepped closer to the leader only held back by the sorceress. His tone was harsh as he answered.  
"Well, if it wasn't for you I'd never even come here."  
"Guys, this is getting ridiculous." Triss managed to get both of their attention. "Zaric, give him back his swords and both of you calm down." The archer didn't hesitate to hand the witcher's weapons over and Geralt took them back. Obviously Triss had some influence over this group of delinquents. "I know there has been some bad blood between the three of us in Flotsam, but all of this lies in the past. The rules of the game have changed and both of you are fighting a desperate fight. You could use some allies."  
"When have you two become such?" Geralt ignored the offer for the moment being, but Triss didn't seem to bother. The witcher often wondered how she could always stay so calm. He liked that about her. That, and many other things of course.  
"It's been a while now. Shall we take a walk?"  
"If you insist." Triss smiled at the witcher and looked over to Iorveth who did have a grim face still but nodded. The sorceress decided to lead the way with Geralt at her side while the elven leader silently followed. As they walked among the trees above the ground, Triss ignited a fire that lit the darkness. While she was retelling how the cooperation between her and the Scoia'tael began, Geralt managed to slightly shake off the hostile feelings.  
"I told you about the mages living in Novigrad?" Geralt shrugged.  
"Sure. They are being persecuted, burned at stake."  
"I plan to save them. To lead them out. I will not witness any more of my brethren die. So I tried to assemble as many as I could and taught them how to stay covered until we are ready to leave. Since then, the witch hunters grew fiercer and their number increased. I thus faced a problem..."  
"...you were in need of allies."  
"Exactly."  
"And you just _happened_ to meet Iorveth?"  
"Don't be stupid, Geralt, I contacted him. Well, I didn't know who he was at that point but I figured he was a feared elven leader."  
"Why would you choose the Scoia'tael anyway?"  
"Because they are just like me, don't you see? We're hunted for what we are, feared and despised by common folk and what's most important: We share an enemy."  
"And an enemy's enemy is my friend, I get it. What's he gaining in return?" Geralt glimpsed over to Iorveth, but Triss kept answering for him.  
"Magical assisstance of course."  
"Could you be any more specific? Are you employing their bolts with an extra edge of deadly lightning or...?"  
"Part of that, part of the other. You can compare it to my position at Foltest's court."  
"You're an advisor?"  
"I guess you can say that."  
"And Iorveth is your king?"  
"Iorveth is my friend." She turned her head to deliver a confident smile to her companion. Iorveth's grim expression faded instantly as he, kind of, smiled back. They were silent for a moment when Iorveth finally spoke up. There was virtually no sign of animosity left in his voice.  
"I didn't trust her at first either. After all, I did not forget whose company you indulged in Flotsam. But a war is a war and one is forced to unlikely alliances sometimes. I reckoned a sorceress as talented as Triss would be an invaluable asset for our cause. And I was right."  
They descended a rope ladder and continued their conversation on the forest trail between beautiful elven tents.  
"What happened to you, Iorveth? Where did you go after the battle in Vergen?" The elf sighted.  
"I went to Loc Muinne."  
"What a coincidence."  
"Barely. I was following Saskia. Eilhart and de Tansarville were controlling her and she needed me. At the end I could free her from the spell but Aedirn lay in ruins. Everything we had fought for lay in ruins. Saskia has... gone to the Blue Mountains to recover and I went to Dol Blathanna."  
"Tried to, you know, rest in peace?"  
"I wanted to, but I couldn't. Not when a human tyrant sets up stakes to have Aen Seidhe burned. I came here to protect my kind. Take a look around, witcher. I arrived with only half as many warriors. The hunted seek shelter here and I will gladly provide it. We grow stronger and now we've got Triss at our side. Radovid will soon tremble in fear if someone even so as _mentions_ my name."  
"Sure you're not letting your hatred for humans run free?"  
"Geralt!" Triss warned her former lover not to start a fight once again, but Iorveth detected the conciliator in himself and replied quite sarcastically.  
"My hatred for humankind has not vanished, vatt'ghern, but I'm not after mass murder if that's what you're thinking." He continued but his tone was serious now. "Everyone thinks they're superiour, I thought so once too. Look where that cursed pride brought us. Elves, dwarfes, dryads and humans should live together without anyone slaughtering the other without reason. I don't care anymore who came first, the only thing that matters is that we now share this land with the dh'oine and that we ought to accept that. But first, they must stop the burnings and that's what I aim to achieve."  
"It's a good cause." Triss added and Geralt nodded.  
"Mh-m" The witcher wouldn't trust Iorveth at all but he trusted Triss. The sorceress could probably just show the elf the right way and keep him from becoming a ruthless slayer of human soldiers again. But to be honest, Geralt at the moment didn't really care for anybody's cause except his own.  
"All right, so you're a big happy family now. Good for you but what's that got to do with me? Why was I brought here?" Geralt saw Triss shake her head in regret and Iorveth replied.  
"Recruitment." _What did he just – what?_  
"What?" Geralt was simply confused. The Squirrel was about to say something but Triss reacted more quickly. She sounded a bit ashamed.  
"That wasn't my idea, believe me."  
"What's this even about?"  
"We are... planning something. Something really big, Geralt but I can't just tell you. We fear that maybe our numbers won't be adequate and so Iorveth is... hiring some of the willing locals."  
"Your men are abducting people." Geralt didn't know what to think of that. Iorveth replied.  
"Only those who seem lost. Or available. Nonhumans, fugitives, outcasts, criminals or mercenaries. Most of them found us or were searching for a cause to fight for. We gave them a reason to keep going. How about you?"  
"I try to stay away from politics, thank you."  
"You can't stay away forever, Gwynbleidd. After the mages are gone, who do you think the witch hunters will turn to next?" Geralt knew the elf was right. Sooner or later he would always have to take a side. Witchers were meant to remain neutral whatever the case, but in times like these he wouldn't be able to bystand for much longer. Sorceresses were persecuted. Yennefer, Triss, Keira. Maybe even Fringilla. Geralt counted many of them among his lovers. Then there were the nonhumans and many of his dearest friends were dwarves: Zoltan for instance and Yarpen Zigrin and his group of stubborn drunkards. Geralt would raise hell before he'd let anything happen to them. Whenever he tried his luck with politics though, he'd make things complicated, bloody and overall worse.  
"You're probably right but I wouldn't worry about me. Anyway, I have to decline. I've got personal matters to resolve." The elf understood.  
"If you change your mind you'll know where to find us. We'll always be grateful for two extra swords." Geralt nodded and held out his hand to the Squirrel. Iorveth shook it, accepting the gesture of good will. The witcher was relieved they did not part as enemies.  
"See you, Iorveth." He turned around to leave and Triss followed him.  
"Geralt, we need to talk." No matter the circumstances, a sentence like that never was a good sign. They left the camp and wandered along the pitch-black path through the forest. None of them minded though for Geralt could see just as fine at night and Triss used her magic to orientate herself.  
"About Iorveth? I guess he's not too bad."  
"Oh, he's wonderful once you get to know him." Triss smiled but pulled herself together as Geralt raised a curious eyebrow. Triss and Iorveth were quite familiar, he _had_ noticed.  
"But that's not what I was attempting to suggest. I wanted to ask you for advice."  
"I'm all ears."  
"I got a strange message. I don't quite know what to think." She looked down and unconciously walked slower as her expression turned confused with a hint of worry. "It was from Ingrid Vegelbud's servant. Apparently Lady Vegelbud's prepared to donate a tidy sum to help the mages escape Novigrad."  
"Guessing this wouldn't be a selfless act of charity."  
"You guess right and that's my problem. She needs a favor from me, but didn't mention any details in the letter, unfortunately. I'm supposed to meet the servant at the fish market. Says he'll explain everything face to face then but... these days I can't be sure meeting him is such a good idea." Geralt shook his head.  
"I don't like this at all either. Could be a trap."  
"That's what I thought. On the other hand we really could use the money." The witcher remembered the look in Triss' eyes from their time together. It was proof of great determination. Meaning Triss would likely go to the meeting even if Geralt tried to talk her out of it. If the arrangement would indeed turn out to be a trap by the witch hunters, he would definitely not let her face it alone.  
"I'll go with you – not about to let you deal with it alone."  
"Thank you." Triss seemed relieved and happily smiled at the witcher.  
"When does this meeting take place?"  
"In four days at noon."  
"Might be enough time for me to find Dandelion. And enough for you to consider refusing Vegelbud's offer. Just saying." Triss desultorisly looked at him. She needed not say anymore for it was clear she would not withdraw now. "Fine, I'll see you in four days then."  
"I certainly hope sooner. Tell me once you found our dear bard. And if you need my help with anything, just let me know."  
"Of course. Bye, Triss." Triss stopped and waved the white-haired man good-bye. Geralt continued on the dark forest trail leaving his beloved redheaded sorceress further and further behind.


	3. Reception

1

Geralt was heading to the fish market as planned. Triss would probably already be waiting.  
The past four days had been pretty eventful, not positively. Geralt wasn't like a certain Temerian friend of his, he didn't care for the results alone. On his mission to save Dandelion there had again been more deaths than necessary and more evil than good had been done. The witcher at least did achieve some outcomes. Dandelion had been rescued from definite execution yet another time and Geralt could finally reconstruct Ciri's story in Novigrad. The good thing, she was still alive and obviously capable of defending herself. The bad news? Ciri had vanished into thin air before Dandelion's own eyes and there were no traces left. Time Geralt moved on to Skellige to meet Yennefer where they would hopefully recover their daughter. Not yet though. The witcher still faced a couple of problems in Novigrad. First and most pressing one being Triss' desire to lead the mages out by boat of course. Geralt worried about her. She had burned down Menge's establishment and there was wicked hatred glowing in her eyes. Understandable, considering the bastard's henchment were about to pull out another of her fingernails. The Rivian heard her screams and despised himself for keeping to ask questions instead of simply breaking the inquisitor's neck. She was a tough woman, but maybe all of this affected her too much.   
He passed by the notice board on Hierarch Square and although he was in a hurry he couldn't restrain from going through the monster contracts. He was fresh out of money and figured he wouldn't be able to afford the ship-trip to Skellige with only a handful of crowns. A fine monster hunt always meant instant rewards and maybe someone needed a professional desperately. _So, what do we have here? 'A monster steals my chickens', Mh-m sounds definitely urgent. What else? 'Giant woodland beast roams our forest, we need a witcher', that's more likely a challenge._ Geralt took the note but stayed to look at the other papers as well. _'Something lurks in my cellar, I dare not even look", Sheesh, it's probably a drowner, get yourself a pitchfork._ He took that note too anyway. One could never know. _Anything else here? No more contracts I'm afraid of._  
Geralt continued to the market place. When the meeting was done, he would tend to the 'Giant Beast'-contract. By what little description he had he speculated he'd have to deal with a fiend or leshen or maybe a griffin. Hopefully the person accountable for this announce was generous.   
"Geralt, over here!" Triss' voice was maybe only slightly louder than a whisper and the witcher turned to the left. The sorceress was waiting in an alley behind the fish stalls. She was counting on his improved senses so only he would notice her. As Geralt approached her she smiled and looked up at him. Her red hair was hiding underneath a yellow hood. He doubted it would serve as an appropriate cover on the long-terms though.   
"Hey Triss."  
"What took you so long?" Even though it probably was an accusation, her tone was soft and her expression friendly. "Nevermind, I'm glad to see you, Geralt."  
"The servant – how're you supposed to contact him?"  
"Said I'd recognize him. He's in a blue tunic, has a load of keys strapped to his belt. I'm supposed to ask him for the price of his trout."  
"You're kidding, right? He tell you to come holding a red rose?"   
"He didn't mention flowers" she shared his opinion looking amused and added, "but I won't refuse if you mind giving me some." She smiled cutely and raised one hand to her mouth in slight embarrassment. Geralt shook his head and frowned but smiled. She was so lovely. But he had had to make a choice between her and Yennefer and he had chosen.   
"It's a fish market, Triss. I can get you some salted cod, if you like." She understood and he continued. "Think it'll be better if I talk to the mystery man in the blue tunic."  
"He's expecting to meet me."  
"You just wait nearby. I'll make sure that note didn't come from the witch hunters. Then you come in."  
"Fine. Good luck."   
The fish market was a smelly, muddy place in the hearts of Novigrad. Geralt only ever came through here when he'd be seeing Francis Bedlam or felt like frequenting Crippled Kate's (not that the latter was a habit, ahem).   
The contact stood in front of a fish stall, plainly visible for Geralt to see. The witcher thought about playing along the dumb game but decided not to be so subtle. He stepped right in front of the 'merchant' and asked him like he was supposed to.  
"Know where I can get the best price on trout?" The Blue tunic looked at him with a hint of confusion.  
"It's not you who I was supposed to meet, sir." Geralt suddenly felt a shiver running down his spine. Not taking his eyes off the man in front of him he glanced around without drawing attention. He noticed two shady thugs from the corner of his left eye on the eastern side of the market. The witcher had always felt it in his guts when he was being watched. He doubted the contact knew about them.   
"Caution would advise -" Geralt cut him off mid-sentence.  
"Caution's advising you not to argue right now. If you don't want uninvited listeners you better trust me."  
"What are you -?"  
"There's two unfriendly looking goons standing right over there. Don't look at them. Guessing they followed you. What do they want?" The man shifted uneasily.   
"I've no clue. Well... recently someone's been tryin' to question our messengers. 'Bout the young count. Where's Miss Merigold?" He was getting a little more nervous and Geralt thought it would probably be best for them to disappear now. It was pretty clear that the Vegelbud's servant hadn't been sent by the witch hunters.   
"Follow me." The witcher said and began to lead the Blue tunic to Triss. Naturally he took a different route so the hostile watchers lost their tracks shortly. The sorceress was still waiting for them in the dark alley beside the market, her arms crossed. Once she saw them arrive she smiled in relief. The contact was the first one to speak again.  
"You were to come alone, miss!"  
"If not for him, that duo would have dragged you in for questioning. The tall one was Valdo Muris, works for the witch hunters." _Look at that,_ Triss had noticed them as well. On the other hand, if she wouldn't be able to spot witch hunters across a market place, she'd already be toast.  
"Aye, I guess you're right, miss. It's just not what I've expected since Lady Vegelbud -"  
"What's this all about?" The witcher cut him off again. He was growing impatient. "Be straight." The servant didn't seem to bother and answered without hesitation.  
"Lady Vegelbud's son. He's the... problem. Master Albert's taken an interest in alchemy and Temple Guard's gotten wind. Now that the witch hunters're after him, I take it he's in serious trouble."  
"Hm... seems high time for Albert to disappear." Geralt mumbled and Triss agreed.  
"I can arrange that.Think young Vegelbud can slip out of the house unnoticed?"  
"T' ain't that simple, sadly." The Blue tunic looked down and shrugged. "Master Albert's in hiding at the Vegelbuds' country estate. Lady Ingrid's got the notion she can get 'im out quietly. Wants to throw a lavish masquerade ball. The Lady fears the help's bein' watched so we'll not manage without you, miss." Geralt crossed his arms.  
"It's a good idea. A boisterous bash – that'll distract the hunters. I just hope we won't have to stay 'till the end."   
"You're coming with me?" Triss smiled happily, yet found it hard to believe.   
"'Course I am. Not about to send you into what could prove to be the lion's den by yourself. How do we get to the residence?" The servant seemed to have waited for that question for he instantly pulled out a neatly fabricated letter and handed it over to the sorceress.  
"Your invitation. Guard at the gate'll have instructions for you. You're to wear a fox mask, all right? Good luck to you." With obviously having no more to say, the man in the blue tunic left the two alone. Triss folded the invitation to make it fit inside her trousers' pocket.  
"If even half of what I heard about the Vegelbuds' balls is true, it's gonna be more than bashful." She looked up at Geralt, expressing excitement. "Word is at the last one they served a hundred different desserts, and the fireworks boomed from dusk 'till dawn." Geralt smirked.  
"And here you're trying to keep your waist at twenty-two inches."  
"Geralt, please. I can't wait to see it all. I bet you can get everything we need for the ball at Elihal's shop, you know it?"  
"Mh-m. Been there before. Elihal's a friend of Dandelion's. Just masks, right? I don't have to wear a... doublet, do I?" If there was anything Geralt hated even more than portals it probably were the doublets. Judging by the way Triss looked at him though, he already knew the answer.  
"A doublet, Geralt and it's not up for discussion. See you at the Vegelbuds' estate later." And just like that, without any further words she turned around smiling and was on her way. _Likely going to need the rest of the day picking a dress._ The witcher smiled likewise and headed south to Elihal's.

2

_Liar Liar, no messiah_  
Liar Liar, she will conspire  
Sire Sire, need is dire  
Sire Sire, what we desire  
Tie her Tie her, get some wire  
Tie her Tie her, now we shall try her  
Higher Higher, feel the fire  
Higher Higher, die on the pyre. 

The young boy did in all probability not even know what he sang about, but this wasn't the first time Geralt had heard these lyrics today. Witch hunter propaganda and now a famous tune for children in Novigrad. Folk sometimes were reciting it during executions on Hierarch Square and it's creator surely bursted with pride. These religious fanatics grew worse by the day. The White Wolf made haste to get to Elihal's shop. Maybe he could even deal with the 'Giant Monster' before the ball? It was at least worth a shot.

3

Triss was too early. She had arrived at the estate ten minutes ago although Geralt was due to meet up in roughly one hour. _Damn you, girl. Stop being that excited – he's only a man after all._ She couldn't help herself but to think about the witcher. The last year when they were together already seemed like so far away. Many things had changed after the events in Loc Muinne. Definitely not for the better.   
She decided to stroll toward the horse racing establishment a little further down the road outside the estate. While it had just gotten dark the stands were nevertheless lit by torches. Yet there was no one there of course, not when a luxurious ball was taking place just around the corner. Triss enjoyed the peace and quiet for it gave her more possibilities to think. About Loc Muinne and it's consequences. After Geralt had recovered his memories he naturally wanted to find Yennefer. The redhead had encouraged and helped him, of course. Yennefer was her friend, she would've confronted Emperor Emhyr herself to see her again. At that point, Triss was already unsure if the witcher's feelings towards her were stronger than towards the long-lost raven. Well, they had been together since Eskel and Lambert found the hallucinating White Wolf outside Kaer Morhen, but... she knew of the wish, that was binding the eternal lovers. Triss felt really miserable knowing Geralt could never ever love her the way he loved Yennefer. They had always been like fire and water, black and white, wolf and raven. Nevertheless it was true love.   
While the raven-haired sorceress of Vengerberg was still alive she never had a chance. Geralt probably didn't look at her twice having only eyes for the older woman. When both of them died the shock was... it was undescribable. Then he returned from the grave, with amnesia. He'd lost all memories of what lay past and Triss... kind of used that opportunity. She had often thought about it that way – betraying Yennefer. Everyone thought her dead though. Now, with her appearing again, seemingly everything that had been between Triss and her witcher deemed unimportant. With the raven back, Triss simply didn't _matter_ anymore.   
She reached the horse racing stands and took a seat on the front bench of the parquet. The night was pleasantly cool as could be anticipated of the month Feainn. Anyway, she thought, she should stop worriying about Geralt. As much as she loved him, she didn't want to ruin it for Yennefer. The sorceresses were good friends and Triss undeniably felt happy for her. Even though it would be painful to see them together, she would sooner or later get over it. There were plenty of other handsome men out there, right? She sighted not knowing what to think and stood up again. What time was it anyway? Walking back she suddenly thought of Iorveth. Well, the elf definitely wasn't ugly, she had to give him that. He had a nasty scar across half of his face, surely, but Triss fancied men with scars. It made them look rather daring. Also, Iorveth wasn't as quite as bad as the world made him. _Wait_ , what was she just thinking about? Falling for an elf probably wouldn't be the best way of getting over Geralt. Her goal was to cope without men, wasn't it? Plus, Iorveth wasn't her type. He had radical tendencies and most often prefered to use his weapons instead of simple logic. He was stubborn most of the time... but so was she. No one was ever perfect. After she had made contact with him again four months ago, she learned about the different sides of his personality. On the outside he was a fanatical human-hater and terrorist yet on the inside... he probably just wanted to live in peace and harmony. His goal was noble, he just... acted unaccordingly to good reason. Yet he wasn't oblivious to advise. Triss had experienced it not only once that he listened to her suggestions and heeded them. Maybe she would be able to make a better person out of him. She'd certainly like that. _Mmh... guess he could be my type after all... Oh, come on, girl, be independant!_ "Stop thinking about them!"  
"Stop thinking about who?" Triss quickly turned to the right. She didn't even realize she'd said it aloud. A black-haired man with a plain violet mask joined her on her way back to the estate.   
"Moritz? What are you doing here?" Moritz Diefenthel. An old... aquaintance of hers. Brilliant, just when she was trying to forget everything related to men.   
"I was about to ask you the same, Merigold." _Merigold._ He definitely hadn't forgotten the way they parted. Then again, he always had been an idiot. "I was led to believe this would be an elegant affair."  
"Yes, I missed you too, but can we put this aside for now? Do you have a way out of Novigrad?" Even if she didn't like him, she had at least got to try to save him. No mage or alchemist should ever burn on Hierarch Square again. "You can join us, if you want."   
"Join you?" She could not see his face behind the mask but judging from the tone of his voice, he wasn't all to impressed nor convinced. "Who exactly would I join?"  
"Your friends. Among others. Once we've all gathered, I'll lead you -"  
"You will lead?" He sounded sarcastic. "Forgive me, Merigold, but that is like allowing myself to be led by a lame duck." He increased his pace and left her standing on the stony track. _What an ass. Why did he address me anyway?_ Maybe he was right though. Triss Merigold – a leader. She had always had her own head and was able to take care of certain things by herself, but to take full responsibility over an entire minority? Had she been over-confident, perhaps even foolish? Everyone relied on her, trusted her with their lives. Was she even ready?   
She arrived at the estate's entrance and was greeted by a friendly face. The white-haired witcher was waiting for her, leaning against the outer wall of the stonen stairway, that lead to the entrance. She was smiling in delight as he wore not only an elegant black doublet but also festive trousers and shoes. Only thing that interfered with the tasteful image were the two swords strapped on his back. As he spotted her, he waved and waited until she approached.  
"Hey, Triss." The sorceress smiled and looked up and down at him.  
"Oh my, you certainly took my request to heart."   
"Mean you weren't being serious? Could have told me when there was still time to change."  
"Don't you dare. You look great!" Geralt smiled.  
"You, erm... look good too." She certainly hoped so. After all, Triss had almost needed half the afternoon to pick a costume. In the end she had chosen a strapless dress coloured in dark green with silver pearls sewn into it. It went very well with her fiery hair, highlighting it. She had also put on a golden necklace and golden earrings according to the motto, _beautiful yet not too pretentious._  
"You get everything?" She asked and Geralt nodded. He handed her the orange fox mask and while she put it on he asked:  
"Learn anything new about Albert?"  
"Well, almost none of the mages have heard of him. An amateur, I guess." She watched him putting on his own mask. A wolf.   
"So why the interest? Temple guards first, now the hunters."  
"He's easy prey... and that's exactly why we should help him." With their masks on, they were now ready to go. As they ascended the stairs to the guarded door, Triss saw Geralt shift constantly.  
"Are you all right?" He turned his head toward her and looked pretty tormented.  
"The damned doublet's chafing my armpits. And it feels like they've sewed wires into this." His expression grew even more miserable as she had to laugh. Geralt walked muddy swamps, swam in poisenous water and traveled through the harshest of snowy mountainsides – yet wearing a doublet proved unbearable.  
"I'll be sure to admire your valiant suffering all the time."   
They reached the heavy armoured guardian and Triss showed their invitations. The guard glanced through them and kept the papers.  
"All's in order. You'll find Lady Vegelbud in the yard. Look for the parrot mask. Leave your swords, please." Geralt hesitated, took a step back and asked suspiciusly:  
"Must be some mistake. You know why we're here, don't you?"  
"Of course. But I've orders to make certain every guest enters the estate unarmed."  
"Dammit..." Geralt mumbled, but left his steel outside. 

4 

"It's beautiful here! Let's look around!" Triss was exited to finally take part on a Vegelbud's ball. The estate's garden was enormous. Trees lit by colourful lampions decorated the main avenue. Following the neatly paved lane would presumably lead them to the courtyard. There weren't all that many visitors here for the main events were to take place closer to the landlord's residence. She increased her pace a little to reach the magnificent fountain she could spot some way in front of them. As they went past a mourning noble lady, to whose lamenting she did not really listen, the rough yet calm voice of her witcher friend claimed her senses again.  
"How are you feeling?" A random question, however Geralt's tone expressed a sincere concern.  
"I'm fine. Why do you ask?"  
"Been wondering... how's your hand?" Her fingers still hurt badly as the nails were about to grow back, but she decided not to trouble him anymore as his guilt seemed to already trouble him enough.  
"They'll heal." His worried look didn't change so she tried to reassure him. "Listen, it was my idea. I knew what I was getting into. Don't need to worry about me."  
"When you slit Menge's throat, and then... you were fierce. I've never seen that side of you. I'm just concerned about how all of this might affect you."   
"Hhm, yeah, well...I'd probably relive it in my dreams if I wasn't already having nightmares about mages roasting on pyres."  
They reached another set of stairs and went up. The plateau was leading to another grand gate, the entrance to the courtyard. In front of it – a fountain. Betwixt winged guardians of stone, the man-made beauty was a monument by itself. A drunken citizen tumbled inside the shallow water, a mug in each hand, as he shouted. "Ahahaaa, I'm a Kraken!" Triss shook her head, but smiled. _Men._ They headed onwards and Geralt opened the comparatively small door, that was incorporated into the big wooden gate. He didn't step through, but waited for Triss and held the door open for her.   
"Why, thank you." She laughed while overpraising the smiling witcher. She entered the courtyard and was amazed. It was probably as big as the garden, only wider and with bushes and potflowers replacing the high trees. In it's center stood an even more flabbergasting fountain than the one they had passed just before. Much much more guests stood, sauntered, danced and drank here, all the while palavering merrily and enjoying themselves. She heard joyful music play from a small distance. Together with the wonderfully multicoloured ladies' dresses, the mettled animal and monster masks and the lovely lanterns, that illuminated the yard at night, it substantially contributed to the breathtaking atmosphere.   
"Let's find Lady Vegelbud." Geralt was right, of course.   
"It's a shame we can't enjoy this evening like the rest of the guests. I'd gladly stay here forever."   
She followed the witcher as he turned to the left. An impressive red tent had been set up just for tonight's occasion. No parrot mask here, but Geralt took an interest in it nontheless. Triss noticed the abundant amout of food and drink on the dining tables, when she heard a familiar voice.   
"A second chance? Hahahaaha! Good one! Cemeteries're full of men who thought old Joel'd give 'em a second chance!" Count Reuven, or rather Sigismund Dijkstra was attending the ball as well and was obviously not having a bad time on it. He was leaning over a silver plate with grapes and plums as he talked to one of his henchmen.  
"Sigi, I'll be." Geralt stepped into the tent with Triss behind him. The Redanian turned around. He wore a pig mask. A strangely appropriate choice, Triss had to give him that.  
"Geralt, damn it all! How I dislike running into you at parties!"   
"Hm." Geralt smiled. "And why's that?"  
"It always means the party's gonna come to an end soon."  
"Don't worry, we're not staying long." Triss calmed the man. The sorceress moved past the witcher to face the delicate banquet.   
"Look at that – my favorite accomplice." Reuven laughed, "What's this, taking a day off from saving the world?" Triss turned her head towards him. She couldn't decide which specialty to try first anyway.   
"Sadly no."  
"Argh, I knew it. Well, the less you tell me, the less I worry." Triss saw Geralt nod at that and quickly picked a single honey-nut treat before she rejoined her witcher friend again. They left with a "See you, Dijkstra." from Geralt and were on their way again. Sigi Reuven wasn't exactly a friend. Both Triss and Geralt counted him upon an ally more or less. A very influential and important one, to tell the truth, although it always proved a safe option to not uphold a conversation for too long.  
Geralt lead the way once more and she followed. They went around the red tent, where, at a peaceful corner, a small group of people were talking. A woman among them was wearing a parrot mask. Lady Vegelbud then. When she saw them arrive, she left the group with an excuse and approached the witcher and the sorceress. They met up half-way.  
"Miss...?" The Lady seemed unsure.   
"Yes, it's me. The trout buyer."  
"Oh yes... excuse the precautions. Maybe we should speak somewhere in private?"

Albert Vegelbud is a dimwit. That were pretty much the essentials of what Lady Ingrid, his mother, had told them. The yound alchemist had practically been boasting about his dangerous hobby, probably even in front of the Temple Guard, so it wasn't that big of a wonder the authorities were after him. No reason to not help him out though. Lady Vegelbud had already had in mind how to get her son out of the estate without raising the slightest suspicion: Later on, when the fireworks would illuminate the night's sky in their manifold colours and the majority of the guests would tumble under alcoholic influence, they were to meet Albert inside the famous hedge maze behind the residence.   
"Seems we get to enjoy the ball after all." Triss merrily said as they relocated themselves back to the main courtyard.   
"Mh-m" The witcher obviously wasn't overjoyed about it, but decided not to drown himself in self-pity. "You really do like it here, don't you?"  
"It's been so long since I've been to a feast or a reception. Amazingly pleasant change from the sewers of Novigrad."  
"To be honest," Geralt answered, "I normally _prefer_ the sewers to this."  
"Don't worry. You'll have plenty of opportunities to go back there. Drowners won't be killing themselves." Geralt smirked. They reached a small table next to the fountain in the yard's center and Triss poured herself a cup of Mettina Rosé.   
"Actually the beast I'm after right now is a bit larger than a drowner."   
"Am I about to hear one of your great witcher stories?" She smiled and took a sip.  
"If you want to." Geralt shrugged. "It's not particularly great though. And unfinished at that."  
"I don't mind. Shall we head back to the garden? I saw a nice spot there earlier. You can tell me of your heroic deeds on the way. Oh, and you must try the wine." The witcher agreed without trying out the wine though. As she lead him out of the crowded areas he recounted.  
"Read a message on a notice board earlier, said some monster was threatening a village. Carsten, to be precise. Figured I could start questioning some villagers this afternoon since Carsten's only a few minutes from here on horseback. Talked to the elderman already and a few witnesses that have claimed to see something in the forest nearby."  
"What did they see?"  
"Going by their descriptions, I'd say they have a fiend roaming their forest. Thing with the fiends is that they are very aggressive and tend to cause havoc once in a while. I didn't have the time to search for it's lair yet, but it's the next thing I'll do. The interesting part however, is that there have also been several disappearances. Roughly a dozen men have vanished over the last few weeks. Villagers claim the monster must have abducted them at night, snatched them from their beds."  
"Nothing a fiend would do I reckon."  
"Not at all. I'm dealing with more than one monster here. Don't know what though..." Walking around a nicely set up line of bushes, Triss only realized after a few seconds of silence, that Geralt wouldn't be telling anymore.  
"That's it?"  
"Well, yes. Basically."   
"Oh dear..." She had to laugh heartily. "I'd hoped for... a little more of hunting if you know what I mean." Seriously, Geralt's 'witcher story' wasn't even legit – stricly speaking – for he had not encountered any monster at all.  
"Told you it's still unfinished. That the place you meant?" Triss nodded as they reached a cozy wooden bench surrounded by shrubs and covered by hedges. A stone fixture provided wine and grapes and the view was gorgeous. They sat down and Triss refilled her cup of wine while gazing across the peaceful forests and fields outside of the estate.   
"Great view from here." She mentioned dreamily.  
"Mh-m. Does this mean it's a good time to ask you about..."  
"About what?" Triss felt a little excitement all of a sudden. _What if Geralt...? Maybe there's still hope for the two of us? No, no, no... don't do that, Triss, simply don't._  
"About Iorveth." She sighted and took a swig of wine before she answered. _See? Don't expect anything else on that front. Yennefer. It's Yennefer and not you._  
"Yes... I think I owe you some explanation, don't I? What do you want to know?"  
"Four days ago, in the camp, you mentioned the Scoia'tael were up to something...big. Care to tell me what exactly it is you're planning?" Triss looked down. Should Geralt know the truth? She wasn't one to keep secrets from him, not ever, but she had promised Iorveth not to let anybody in on their scheme. What to do?  
"We... well Iorveth, to be precise, thought that my plan for the mages' escape beared too many risks. He's organizing a distraction, that will keep the Witch Hunters occupied for a few weeks at least. During which we'll act."   
"What kind of distraction does that imply?" Geralt seemed suspicious and she couldn't blame him for not directly liking the Scoia'tael or their leader and certainly not putting his trust into them.  
"You'll recognize it, believe me."  
"Not gonna tell me?"  
"I can't, Geralt, I'm sorry. It's only me and Iorveth who know about it." The witcher nodded in comprehension.   
"You like him, don't you?"   
"Iorveth?" The sorceress looked at her friend in curiosity.  
"Mh-m." As the White Wolf awaited an answer Triss smiled, for she automatically had to think of the pointy-eared man.   
"He's my friend, so yes, I like him. Why do you ask?"  
"Just wondered..." Geralt crossed his arms and seemingly didn't know wether to smile or to frown. "You _did_ notice he's quite fond of you, right?"   
"Of course. Like I said – we're friends."  
"That's not what I mean." The witcher stared at her and Triss looked away to escape his view but had to laugh. He was right, naturally. She raised the cup of wine to her mouth and took another sip before thinking of a reply.   
"Maybe." That was everything she could think of. A small, sincere answer. Maybe. Maybe they fancied each other or maybe Triss was only imagining things to compensate. She saw Geralt nod unduly as he looked down.   
"Good for you," he mumbled and suddenly stood up.  
"What's wrong?" Triss asked in surprise. She watched him walk a few steps away from the bench. _Don't tell me you're jealous, witcher. That can't be._ As he turned around to face her again, his expression was serious – as if he suppressed something.   
"Nothing. I just noticed we should meet Albert now. You coming?"   
She stood up, leaving her cup of wine on the bench. As they went for the famous hedge maze without saying a word, Triss had to prevent herself twice from reading the witcher's thoughts. She wouldn't like anything more right now than to see what he was thinking. Respect kept her from invading his privacy though. Could it really be that he was jealous? He definitely didn't approve of her feelings for the elven leader, that's for sure. Perhaps Geralt didn't know what he wanted. If he really loved Yennefer more than her. _I bet he doesn't want to decide and rather take a threesome. Men._

Everything that followed was rather unspectacular – at least for the sorceress. They've met Albert in the center of the maze and they separated to draw possible persecutors toward the witcher. Triss had brought the inebriated young count to the stables where Lady Ingrid already awaited them. She had saddled the horses and thanked the red-haired woman for her help. The money she paid her for it was stunningly more than Triss had expected.  
Geralt arrived after the agreed fifteen minutes and blatantly told them that he had had to kill three assassins, that had confused him with Albert. Triss handed him his two swords she had gotten back from the Lady.  
"Where'll you be going now, Triss?"  
"Taking Albert to a safe place where the Hunters won't find him. Thank you for helping me." She wanted to get on her horse but Geralt stopped her.  
"Sure you don't need any more help? What if someone catches up on you?"  
"I'm more than capable of defending myself." She laughed and turned to a side. "But it's nice to know you care." Finally she reached up to grab the rein and lifted herself up onto the saddle. Adjusting her position she looked down at the witcher and smiled. "Besides... I already have another helpful aide."  
"Mh-m, I got it. Sir pointy-eared cyclops, right?" Geralt's face showed a mixture of annoyance and amusement. Triss shook her head but kept smiling.  
"You're unbelievable. See you later, alright?" Geralt nodded and waved good-bye. She spured her horse and rode off. Albert would be safe in the camp. It was time for her to return to the Scoia'tael anyway. Because what she didn't tell Geralt was that the planned 'distraction', the assault, was due to take place very soon.


	4. The Witcher's Apprentice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long, but better late than never am I right?   
> I had originally planned something entirely different for this chapter, but quickly reconsidered it because it would have seemed far too rushed. I hope you enjoy anyway ;-)

1

The monster's lair was deserted, it's inhabitant probably on a blood-raged hunt for humans. Fiends can be like this – devastating. Geralt sheathed his silver sword and entered the dusty cave to look for a trail. Anything he could pick up and follow, be it footprints, bloodstains or even scents. This part of his profession was routine and the witcher only half-heartedly undertook it. The other part of him, his mind, was still ghosting around the main courtyard of the Vegelbud's residence. _Didn't took her long to get over me, did it?_  
The lair had not been inhabitad for long. A week at most. He had to find it quickly for enraged fiends would only ever stop killing if they were stopped by someone else. Still better than enraged sorceresses. _I bet she thinks this has been easy for me. That I could just leave my feelings behind because I've got Yen now._  
He intuitively noticed a pungent stench in the air, which most certainly belonged to the beast. Time to track it and let the hunt begin! With slowly growing enthusiasm he followed the smell. A chase like that was always a good distraction from troubling thoughts. _I should be happy for her. I mean, we've both found someone else, right? Alright, stop it now: Focus! Witchers are rational, pragmatic creatures._  
Running through the underwood, Geralt had subconciously aimed for Carsten when he realized that the smelly trail he followed indicated a completely different direction. If the monster wasn't going for the village, where else could it unleash it's wrath? The witcher suddenly caught the obvious: The beast he followed had just recently arrived here. Alas, it had been driven out of it's previous territory and thus would claim a new one. _This_ one. This forest. It probably wouldn't target the richly populated settlements outside the woods but clear it of it's other inhabitants first. And who else was situated in here? What little guerilla group had made camp just half a mile from Geralt's current position? The White Wolf made haste to arrive at the Temerian hideout in time. _Damn you, Roche. Damn you if I'm too late you're all dead. Lilies do not belong in a forest!_  
Suddenly the stench was getting weaker and after the witcher had passed a small muddy pond, it was gone altogether. _What the...?_ He stopped briefly to look at the prints around the water. If he didn't know better, he'd say the enormous, bloodthirsty monster had intentionally washed away his malodor to confuse any possible trackers. If that indeed was the idea, it had worked. Geralt was confused alright. Fiends don't think. They don't hunt strategically, and certainly not carefully and as he continued his sprint, he wondered if it was a fiend at all he was looking to slay.  
He focused his senses to detect any loud sounds. He was getting close enough to the Temerian cave to be able to hear the battlerage and the screams of dying soldiers. At least, these were the noises he feared he'd hear. Feared to hear any more friends perish. What he could make out though was only silence. Keeping up his speed while also managing a steady breathing, he reached the clearing and spotted the cave's entrance. More importanty though – he saw a guard in a blue uniform standing rather lazily in front of it, leaning on his lance. As Geralt approached though, the guardian didn't react one bit. He had his eyes closed – didn't excactly sleep but surely wasn't awake either – and Geralt had to bring him back to the real world with a tap on his chest.   
"Wake up, soldier! You're failing your duties." He said quietly to not startle the man too much. The awoken looked at the witcher, still looking confused, but quickly stiffed.  
"I... er... 't was only a quick nap..."   
"Just keep a lookout, will you? And stay awake." The monster slayer knew he could rely on his witcher senses to alarm him of any loud or unusual noises, but an extra pair of watchful eyes wouldn't ever do any harm. "Watch the forest closely."  
He went past the soldier, who probably didn't even grasped that there was danger, and entered the cave.

2

Vernon Roche was leaning over a dark table, studying a map, as Geralt arrived. The commander was surrounded by a handful of men and frowned badly. The dim candlelight, that had to replace the morning sun, for sunlight didn't make it's way into the camp, shadowed the soldier's faces and made Roche's look even darker. Geralt didn't need to announce himself, for as he approached, the commander noticed him. Geralt heard his old friend's heart jump immediately as he looked up aprubtly, one hand moving to grab hold of his sword as he stared into the witcher's cat eyes. _Frightened so easily?_  
"You're getting really paranoid, you know?" The witcher greeted him with a smile and stepped closer. The Temerian relaxed a bit and nodded. He shut his eyes tight and rubbed his nose before he stepped away from the table.  
"Hm. Maybe I'm just getting old." He looked tired. The witcher decided to cut to the chase.  
"You'd better not be right now. Listen, I've got reason to believe that you and your men have been targeted by a fiend." Roche crossed his arms and listened. _Give the man a possible foe and he's all ears._ "Big bloodthirsty beast, dangerous by his size alone." _At least I guess it's a fiend._ "Thing is, I don't know what's holding it so long. It's very uncommon, no, unheard of, of fiends to plan an attack. It's hiding out there, ready to strike. But why?"  
"Never question the why but the how. If it's threatening us, I only care for one thing: how do we kill it?"  
"You don't. I'll take care of that."  
"What? Geralt -" Before Roche had the chance to complain and get angry, the witcher explained.  
"I doubt your men would be of any help. Once enraged, there's nothing to stop a fiend. You gotta be quick, stay behind it and weaken it. Your strikes have to be precise and well-aimed. And besides, steel wouldn't be any witcher's metal of choice when battling conjunction creatures." The white-haired wolf paused to watch his Temerian friend's reaction. He never knew with Roche. Impulsive and irascible on the one side yet rational and loyal on the other and full of surprises, the commander was one of the most unpredictable persons he knew (actually, Yennefer was presumably the only one who could best him at unpredictability).  
"Hm... fair point." The blue striped man murmured. _One of your rational days, then, huh?_  
"But Geralt, if you think I'll cower away and hide while you risk your life for us, you're mistaken. But you already guessed that, right?" There was a slight hint of challenge in the Temerian's look, that made Geralt smirk. Admittedly, one thing at least could be predicted concerning Vernon Roche: No matter the fight, he would be a part of it! Still smirking he answered.  
"'Risk my life for you' is probably a bit too drastic, I would have to get rid of the ugly beast anyway, however help from you is always welcome. Which is why..." The witcher reached for one of his silver swords, that were strapped to his back. Normally he wouldn't bother carrying two of the same material at once, yet these were hard times and the monsters were plenty.  
"... I hereby entrust you with a witcher's weapon."   
Roche blinked once, but took the silver sword with a curious look on his face. He held it in both hands and turned away from Geralt to give it a few practice air slices.  
"It's lighter than an ordinary sword." He observed.  
"Indeed. Won't do much good against steel-plated armour, but it's the worst nightmare of any monster. Speaking of which, are you ready to kill one?" The witcher asked. They couldn't be loosing any more time.  
"I'm always ready. Let's go."  
"Tell Ves and your men to barricade themselves up as deep in these caves as they allow it. If the fight takes place in here, there won't be much left of them otherwise. Meet me outside afterwards." The witcher turned to head outside, before the commander had the chance to put any emphasis on his complaint.  
"I don't appreciate you ordering me around!" Not stopping nor even turning his head, Geralt replied.  
"Oh yes, you do! Because I'm irresistible." With no grimly answer following, the wolf stepped out of the cave and smiled a little viciously. _Couldn't think of a witty reply in time, huh?_ He really liked the new Roche. Then, in Loc Muinne, he would have thought twice about making fun of the Temerian, but nowadays, well... It seemed his latest impression of a more laid-back version of his friend was very much justified.   
He heard footsteps from behind him, running towards him. Too light to be a man's so it had to be...  
"Geralt, is that true?" The pretty blonde woman walked around him, looking angry. "You wanna deny me a fight once more?"  
"Ves, I..."  
"Have you lost your balls as well? You fought me once, you know I'm capable of fighting off anythin' that crosses me."  
"To be honest, I..." The woman pushed him and bellowed:  
"Admit it!"  
"Stop it!" The witcher grabbed her arms to calm her and after a few seconds of resistance, the Temerian woman ceased her tantrum. As he loosened his grip, she quickly freed her wrists and crossed her arms and looked to the ground.   
"There is no admitting needed." Geralt said sincerely. "You're undoubtly a skilled soldier..."  
"...but a soldier nontheless!" The deep voice of the Temerian commander interrupted them. "A soldier under my command, if I'm not mistaken." Ves went past the witcher to confront Roche. She was still furious, but managed not to shout.  
"I'm to hide then? What good will I do if I'm not fighting?"  
"You won't do any good if you're dead. Now stop provoking me and obey!" Not even Geralt would have opposed there. He had forgotten how intimidating Roche could be. Ves on the other hand didn't move an inch. She stared at her commander and probably thought of shouting back at him. Without any further words though, she finally resigned and headed back into the cave slowly without looking at one of the men. As soon as she was gone, Roche sighted.  
"That was a bit harsh, don't you think?" Geralt mustered.   
"She can take it. She always did. Always will..." He sounded pensive for a moment, but managed to shake it off. "Monster hunt then. I'm not familiar with your witcher traits – how does this work?"  
"Find out what it is you're hunting, follow it's trail or lure it to you and finally kill it."  
"Don't mock me, you know what I mean. You mentioned it was hiding, so I take it you haven't found it yet?"  
"Partly right. I lost it's trail. But a creature that big won't be able to stay uncovered for long. Let's go!"

3

"So, Ves and you – something I should know?"  
"You wanna talk about it _now?_ " Roche shouted while dodging a fierce attack, that smashed some barrels beside him to bits. It really hadn't taken them long to find the monster they were looking for. They had only needed to follow the screams coming from Carsten. Truly a cursed village. First it was the Nilfgaardians and now this – a vile rampage. Next it'll be the Wild fucking Hunt, Geralt had noticed as he and Roche came across destroyed huts and even more dead civilians.  
"Might be our last chance." The witcher replied as he delivered a strike across the fiend's enormous back, that made it make a terrible sound of pain. It ferociously swung its horned head towards the White Wolf and missed him by only an inch. Geralt concentrated and hold up his free hand to form a sign, yet the fiend wasn't done with him yet. Before it could take another swing though, a ray of igni hit it's face.   
"Nothing you don't already know..." The Temerian sliced up the unprotected side of their monstrous enemy and both of the hunters flinched as they heard the horrible sound that was the beast's scream.  
"Trying to protect her but..." he jumped backwards to evade being hit "... doing everything wrong, naturally." He jumped back again but he had underestimated the fiend's attack. The monster had simply run towards him and the commander was sent flying against the wooden wall of a villager's house. The pain quickly spread from his spine through his whole body as Roche collapsed to his knees. The impact had emptied his lungs and as he desperately gasped for air, he saw the monster aiming at him again. Collecting his strength, he stood up shakily and prepared to evade the charge by rolling away in time. Before he had to do so however, his witcher friend recklessly slammed into the much bigger monster. Roche watched in disbelief and shock as the fiend turned around and crushed the White Wolf between itself and a hut's wall.  
Roche's heart stopped for more than a split second. _No... that... didn't happen. That was much too quick... Geralt didn't even had a chance... he just..._ Another horrendous sound escaped the monster's throat as it stumbled away from the house while leaving a notable trail of blood behind it.   
It didn't care about the commander as it lurched back into the forest making awful noises. Roche didn't chase it, he had completely forgotten about it. Still shaken, he staggered towards what he thought was his dear friend's dead body. _This is unreal, this couldn't have been it, could it?_ As he approached the witcher, his heart beated quicker again. No Blood. In fact, Geralt looked only barely harmed. An overwhelming feeling of hope conquered him and as he reached him he knelt down and immediatly sighted in reassurance. Geralt was breathing. Magic tricks, of course. The relieved commander closed his eyes for a moment and smiled.   
"Urgh... it... got away, didn't it?" The familiar voice made him open his eyes again. Geralt hadn't moved, but he dizzily opened his golden eyes and Roche answered as firmly as he could to not make his affection too obvious.  
"That was foolish, witcher." He got a smile in return and it was the most beautiful thing in all of Redania right now.  
"Did feel like a great idea at the time though." Already quite recovered, Geralt sat up, using his arms to support himself. "Where did it go?"   
"Back to where it came from. You got it badly." Roche nodded briefly towards the forest and stood up. Holding out a hand, he helped the witcher to do the same. The second, the White Wolf was back on his feet, he was already on his way.  
"Let's go."

Roche needed no superhuman senses to keep on track. The amount of blood the fiend had lost was remarkable and quite simple to follow. It was no surprise when the two men finally found it: It's enormous broken body lay just outside of a cave – still breathing heavily, yet beyond help. As they approached, the monster flinched somewhat but was unable to do anything more than dying slowly.   
"Didn't even reach it's lair." Geralt commented and pointed to the cave as they walked around the bleeding mass of flesh. "Let's finish this."  
Thus he grabbed his dagger from his belt and with a swift, routined move straight on beheaded the creature, that twitched a few more times, before it died at last. Roche frowned, as he knew Geralt would be keeping that bloody head until he got his reward. _All right, back to the camp and..._  
"You... you killed her." Both men turned around, facing the cave. A black-haired woman, barely dressed stood by the entrance. They simply watched her, as she walked towards them in fluid and elegant movement, making her something like a force of natur. She had dark skin and various exciting tattoos covered her face and her body. The one thing, that Roche found most peculiar though, was her lag of feet. Her lower legs were covered in dark fur and ended in what looked like hooves. She was very beautiful, even Roche could tell and as she came closer he turned his head towards the witcher to reassure himself of his true desires. Her affect on the White Wolf was obviously much stronger: Geralt had fixed his eyes on her and didn't say a word.  
"You're a succubus, I assume." Roche finally broke the silence and the dark lady halted. She was a master of sublety, her every little move seemed like an act of majestic sublimity.  
"And you seem uncommonly strong-willed to be able to resist me." Her words came out like a joyous tune but the commander only smirked, unaffected, then looked at his paralyzed friend once more. _Right strong-willed, surely._  
"What have you done to him?"   
"Why, nothing. He is mesmerized by the sole sight of me." The fair creature smiled and ran a hand through her long hair. Roche didn't like that at all. Not leaving the woman out of sight, he leaned towards his friend and snapped two fingers in front of his face. The witcher blinked twice but didn't react in any other way. If this wasn't some kind of witchcraft, Roche wasn't calling himself a patriot anymore. The succubus started moving closer again, yet Roche stopped her.  
"You stay where you are!" The vile tone, he'd use in interrogations seemed to work on the woman as well. She once again stopped, an unusual expression sparkling in her eyes. Putting on a strange simper, she revolved slowly until she faced the dead monster's body. She bent down and rested her dainty hands on her knees to adjust herself.  
"You ruined it all." Her playful tone didn't match her words. "We were a fine duo, she and I." She raised one arm to caress the dead fiend's neck but let it slide again shortly after.   
"So you... worked together with... with that? How come you weren't torn apart at first sight?" The commander raised one hand to rest it on the hilt of his sword. He wasn't quite so sure anymore, if this woman presented harm. Looks can be deceiving, and he would probably have to be careful.  
"Torn apart?" She straightened up again and placed her hands on her hips. "She was of my kind."  
"Right, how foolish of me. The resemblance is apparent." She narrowed her eyes, but her expression turned friendly again. Friendly, but in a vile way; it was hard to concentrate on it. Not heeding the prior warning, she moved closer again. This time though, she seemed not to touch the ground at all and her motions were of such an elegant nature, that she indeed seemed to glide. Roche tried not to be deluded. He wondered if all succube were female and a subconscious part of his brain wished to one day meet a male counterpart of the much less compelling lady in front of him. **Not** to be deluded, he reminded himself. As the lady had nearly reached him, he closed his hand around the grip of his sword.   
"Give me one reason why I should let you live." She looked up at him, seemingly not bothered by his threat.  
"I beg your pardon?"  
"The carnage – this was your doing, was it not?" He remembered what Geralt said to him as he had arrived again. _Fiends don't hunt strategically, they don't think, they only kill for their bloodlust. It's out there, waiting, hiding... ready to strike. But why?_ "You ordered that beast to slaughter the villagers." He suddenly drew his sword and pointed it towards the woman's throat. She didn't jump or shout, she didn't even look scared whereas she should have been. She simply stared into Roche's eyes with a sense of an undefinable emotion.  
"So I did." He nodded and without anymore words he impaled her. She hadn't even tried to avoid the blade, nor would she have pleaded for mercy. Her eyes still focused on her Temerian murderer as she stumbled backwards, out of the cold embrace of silver. The commander could see in her eyes that she had long accepted death and wasn't afraid of it. As she sunk to her knees with no more than only a soft moan, Geralt suddenly moved again. He joined Roche's side as they both watched the succubus die. With the last of her remaining energy, she managed to whisper a few final words.  
"You will always lose in the end... Your numbers are few... and you...know it." She closed her eyes and with a few more breaths, she spilled her last drops of blood. Roche was battle-hardened, a true veteran, yet this woman's death affected him strangely. She had been unique, a surreal power of her own, and he had slewn her without batting an eye. He knew she was evil, a monster that had been killing humans, but still... He heard the witcher beside him sight and forced himself to not waste another thought on unreasonable grief.  
"You snapped out of it, then?" He knew he sounded rough again, but he didn't care. He watched Geralt closely and sheathed the silver sword again. The witcher narrowed his eyes and nodded a little absently. He crouched to take a closer look at the dead woman. Roche realised he was lost in thoughts, so he pressed for an answer. "Care to elaborate? What did she do to take you out like this?"  
"She was obviously talented. There aren't many of her kind to possess such a firm hold over their subjects." He stopped and looked up, yet his gaze went nowhere specific. "That would explain how she could command the fiend to start with. I would have come to my senses soon enough to deal with her myself, but..."  
He stood up again and smiled curiosly, fixing Roche with his cat's eyes. "Come to think of it... You weren't affected at all." The commander suddenly went nervous. He kept his expression as serene as he could manage and shrugged. Geralt wouldn't suspect the truth, now – would he? Though a very small part of the Temerian hoped he would. If he did, if the witcher saw through him, and he expressed his conjecture with a smile, then maybe... His damned heart began beating faster again out of fear and childish, inappropriate hope. His conscious mind knew better all the same and he went smug as he said:  
"Lucky for you I weren't! Guess I simply don't fancy the hooves." Geralt kept smiling and even a little snicker escaped his lips.  
"Right. Or maybe she just didn't have enough strength to addle both of us."   
"Yeah... guess so." Roche nodded briefly, his expression turned blank again. They turned their backs on the scene they had covered in blood and without haste wandered back to the hideout. Roche's heart had calmed down and he was grateful for that. Geralt was explaining a few things about succube and expressed his concern about the coalition they had just fought. The commander listened, of course, as he was always very interested in what the witcher had to say. Yet there was something else, a thought, that had manifested in his mind: The succubus _did_ try to seduce him, she had even _said_ so. And he knew he had felt something. But one short look at Geralt and the effect was gone. So if there ever had been hope for him to feel attracted to a woman, this hope was now shattered. Or rather, struck dead and lying in it's own blood. He didn't even know if this was a bad thing. It certainly didn't feel bad. Quite the contrary, if he was honest to himself, which he only rarely was. Talking to his witcher friend lifted his mood and cleared his mind of troubling thoughts of politics and wars. Still... the one thing he despised about his situation was his tendency for aspiration. His wish for more. More than he would ever get. If the magic woman's spell would have worked on him as well, that would have made things a lot easier.   
"Let's say we split half and a half. Right?" The witcher asked him after he reminded himself to collect the reward for the monster. The Temerian raised his eyebrows. He didn't expected that, he didn't even think about the money but now as it was mentioned, it seemed only fair.  
"Won't argue on that."  
"Good. I'll hand it over next time. What are you gonna do now?" Thinking about that made Roche's head ache again. Meeting that unpleasant man Dijkstra, planning another regicide... He frowned as he answered.  
"I'm off for business in Novigrad in a few hours."  
"Not particularly enjoyable business or so it seems."  
"Mildly spoken." He hissed sarcastically.   
"Why don't you come visit the Chameleon?" Geralt proposed. They looked at each other for a moment before Roche broke eye contact. "I mean... since you already are in Novigrad. Might lift your spirit." The Temerian nodded and smiled.   
"I'll consider it."


	5. The Chameleon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your kudos and nice words, you guys are really great! :-D  
> Sorry again it took me so Long for a new chapter, but my work is currently killing me... Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

1

Novigrad – The free city.  
Novigrad – Cultural capital of the world.  
Where the rich and the noble reside, where the most famous artists perform. They would travel here from all over the world just for the sake of beautiful Novigrad. Where you can enjoy the finest of imported wines and ales in over 30 taverns, where nineteen temples illuminate even the poorest of districts in the light of the Eternal Fire. Where men feeling lucky enough rejoice in brothels or casinos and where you can always count on lovely street performers if you felt like just taking a stroll.  
A stroll he did take, and yes, there were musicians on every market place. Roche would have even enjoyed their performances, were they not playing right besides smoking pyres and burning "blasphemers".  
He had been meeting Sigi Reuven in his bathhouse, which was an unpleasant thing by itself, to conspire against Radovid. Reuven had contacted him a few days before to suggest it and Roche had quickly agreed. He hated Radovid, he hated the Eternal Fire and he was an expert in everything concerning regicide. All that didn't mean he liked what Reuven and him were doing, though. They had been discussing the whole day and the Temerian had just wanted to get over with it quickly. He kept telling himself he only did what had to be done and found comfort in the idea of seeing Geralt again once he was done. When the witcher had invited him to the Chameleon this morning, Roche didn't really had to think twice if he'd follow.

It was afternoon when he finally left the bathhouse to head downtown to where the Chameleon was situated. Troubling thoughts kept him from feeling relieved and while he internally struggled, he didn't notice the commotion on the market place before him right away. As the screams became louder though, he raised his head to behold the spectacle. The fires burned bright on Hierarch square and from the distance he couldn't see who it was, they were burning. He felt the urge to just take another route, to go through the Bits if need be. He didn't, however, and approached the market. The townsfolk had formed a crescent at the center of the place and everyone watched the execution in satisfaction.  
"Witness the purging of pestilence by the Eternal Fire! Let the holy flames complete this cleansing!" The knight of the Flaming Rose shouted enthusiastically, the torch that had set alight the pyre still in his hand and raised to the sky. The Temerian joined the crowd to take a look at the victims. Two young women, one of them a mere girl, were still alive. The girl shrieked in pain as the flames consumed her body and the woman on the other pyre coughed weakly. She would be dying by inhaling the smoke even before the fire would have reached her. Lucky one, less painful.  
"Higher, higher, die on the pyre!" A man recited the popular rhyme and Roche decided to face him. Through all the noise he had to shout.  
"Who were those women?" The man didn't look at him to not miss anything.  
"Some witch and 'er concubine. Fucking well deserved it for that alone!" Roche widened his eyes and turned to the suffering women again. They were lovers. It was like a punch to the gut for him. A bloody hurtful reminder of what happens, if you... liked the wrong person. He wanted to end their ordeal, to let them know somehow, that they were not alone. He pulled back his hood, because that felt like showing them some respect and moved one step closer before his brain commanded him to stop. He couldn't help them anyway and the least he wanted to do now was drawing attention.  
The screaming finally stopped and as he looked again, both women were dead and burned. He sighted, even more troubled than before and wanted to leave, when the man beside him adressed him once more.  
"By the gods, that was a good execution, what do you think, eh?" The commander looked at him and simply shrugged. Suddenly the other's expression changed. The Novigrad citizen narrowed his eyes.  
"Say, do I know ye per chance?" Roche was a professional and answered firmly, yet was as alarmed as it could get.  
"I expect not. I'm not from around these parts." He studied the stranger closely. If that man had just recognized him... "Just passing through." He added, and the other man nodded.  
"Ah well, had you mistaken I guess." Without another word, the stranger turned and left and Roche kept standing where he was for a bit longer. He pulled his hood back on and with one last concerned look to the execution site, he was on his way too. There was no way he could calm down now. The succubus, Dijkstra, the girls and now the recognition, it certainly was a day that couldn't possibly get any worse. He knew he was a delinquent by now, hell, in the free city's eyes he was a full-fledged terrorist, but he was operating from the shadows, unknown to ordinary people. Even if someone saw him during a raid, he wouldn't remember anything else apart from a Temerian uniform, which he did not wear now. Knowing wandering around Novigrad coloured in blue and white would be risky at least, he had put on plain trousers, a dark blue shirt and a dark grey coat, that he had wrapped around himself. He didn't approve of Ves' idea to leave his chaperon at the hideout, yet had to submit, due to undeniable logic. One more reason to find the stranger's possible recognition highly disconcerting. He made haste and tried to keep his upcoming paranoia under control.  
As he went by the Tretogor gate, he suddenly saw it: Right there on a notice board hung an arrest warrant for a certain dangerous partisan named Vernon Roche. He had only even took note of it because of the very artistic and remarkably accurate illustration of his face. The commander paused and stared at the paper. How many of them had been produced and for how long have the guards been decorating the city with them? He quickly read the short notes that promised a high reward from the Temple Guard and mentioned some locations where he had been seen with his unit. _Fucking hell!_ That explained why the stranger thought he'd knew him. Luckily he did wear his beloved chaperon on the painting. Should make it easier to hide below a hood unnoticed. He cursed silently and moved on. Actually, he had been expecting this for some time now and wasn't really surprised. The only thing that pissed him off, was that all of this happened to him on one and the same day. As he entered the Chameleon though, the unsettling thoughts vanished in an instant. The second he saw his witcher, all the troubles in the world disappeared like ash washed away by rain.

2

"... and I thought I'd start with a poem. What do you advise? Not that I'd change my decision, mind you."  
"Dandelion, I'm pretty sure Priscilla knows of your undying love for her. I mean, you haven't left her bedside for days." The poet in front of him waved his hands around again to emphasize his determination.  
"Of course she knows, but to make her recovery as festive as she deserves it, a solemn avowal of my devotion is not only necessary but key." Geralt shrugged there and Zoltan, who sat beside him, did the same, yet accompanied by an "if it makes ye happy". Dudu, who was smoking his pipe and sat around the corner of the table smiled in silent entertainment.  
"Well then, ahem." Dandelion stood up and with his dramatic voice he began reciting his new rhyme. "Thoughts of you, my beloved paramour -"  
"You really want to start like that?" Geralt interrupted him. Dandelion caught his breath in confusion and looked at him. With a sense of indignation he answered:  
"Pardon me, Geralt but what do you know of poetry? Priscilla will be enraptured." Geralt shrugged again and looked at Zoltan who grinned widely. They loved to make fun of Dandelion, partly because it was so easy to tease him. The witcher did not really listen to his friend's exhuberant poem and stared across the room. From where he sat he had a good view of both the entrances.  
"I surpassed my own brilliance, if I can be so keen as to say it." Geralt shook his head and Zoltan answered.  
"If she likes it, I guess she deserves ye..." Suddenly Geralt saw a familiar figure enter. The man looked like an average shady bloke and a hood hid the most of his face yet the witcher recognized him instantly. He smiled, happy to have a good reason to interrupt Dandelion, who was making his annoyance of Zoltan evident.  
"Hey, Vernon!" Geralt raised one hand and waved at the man. As the newcomer looked up at them, Geralt was confirmed that he had been right in his assumption. Dandelion and Zoltan spun around almost simultaneously.  
"Roche?" The bard managed to murmur before he was facing his former acquaintance. "I certainly didn't expect..." He sounded completely confused and Geralt couldn't blame him. It had been months now, since he and Zoltan had seen the Temerian last. Not only that, but they hadn't been on the friendliest of terms as well. The witcher thus took matters in his own hands.  
"I invited him. Dudu, meet a friend of mine, Vernon Roche. Sit down, join us!" The Temerian smiled hesitantly and accepted the offer.  
"Gladly." He said before sitting down next to Geralt and nodded at both the poet and the dwarf to greet them. "Dandelion. Zoltan. It's been a while."  
"It's been indeed." Dandelion answered before he leaned forward. His confusion was replaced by curiosity. "I didn't know the two of you were still in touch."  
"I'm sorry if I sound a little daft here but... who is he exactly?" Dudu asked.  
"And old war friend." Geralt explained. "He served under Foltest."  
"Special Forces." Roche added.  
"Blue Stripes' commander. After the king had been murdered I was thrown into prison to be executed in public for regicide. Only I hadn't killed Foltest. Roche helped me escape."  
"In exchange Geralt helped me and... my men to capture the real kingslayer."  
"I had to clear my name and it turned out the man we were looking for was a witcher as well. Things got complicated from there on. In Flotsam we met Dandelion and Zoltan."  
"I think we saved them from being hanged." Roche looked at Geralt and the witcher smirked.  
"Again." He said before his poet friend complained.  
"We had things under control."  
"Speak for yerself!" Zoltan objected. "I am bloody grateful you came by. Still get the shivers thinking about it..."  
"I can picture it." Dudu smiled and nodded, knowing very well how many times Dandelion had gotten himself into trouble. Geralt watched Dandelion go all sulky again and before he could continue their tale, the poet suddenly began telling it himself.  
"While Zoltan and I peacefully gathered information on the kingslayer and did our best to improve the overall situation, Geralt and our dear commander here rushed headlessly forward to start a local fight with the Scoia'tael."  
"That wasn't actually how it went..." Geralt started defending himself and his Temerian friend got his back.  
"The Scoia'tael were involved with the kingslayer. " _As if you needed an explanation or a reason to attack Iorveth and his men,_ Geralt thought, _but right you are, anyway._  
"We followed Letho for several weeks from Flotsam to Vergen until we finally caught up with him in Loc Muinne." Geralt resumed.  
"Loc Muinne, I've heard of it." Dudu sounded thoughtful. "It's were they started burning the mages. Had no idea you were there, Geralt."  
"I'd rather not go into it. I... We did the best we could, but there was no avoiding the bloodshed. All that boiled up political anger went loose and I hate getting swept up in politics. In the end we had at least rescued a future queen and spared a dragon's life." _And Letho's, too._ Roche had never asked about the kingslayer's fate and he had never told him. Wouldn't brag about it now, for he wasn't sure as to which extent Roche would most certainly disapprove. Might barely escape with his life. He didn't regret letting the witcher from the school of the viper live though. If he had the chance to face him again, he would be making the exact same decision one more time.  
"That's very fascinating, not that I didn't know _that_ particular story but anyway, one thing remains unclear." Dandelion faced the commander. "Shouldn't you be in Temeria?"  
Geralt heard Roche sigh and looked at him. The commander had lowered his head a bit and frowned. His expression was dark and his eyes fixed an uncertain location on the table. Geralt realized that Roche always looked like this when he was brooding. Actually, no, he always looked like that, no matter what he was doing. Right now he seemed to be brooding though.  
"Temeria is no more." The commander stopped briefly. "After we've been ploughed by Nilfgaard, I couldn't bear to stay. Our forces were decimated, the locals intimidated and the high lords and ladies kept quarreling over what was left of their lands. I came here looking for allies. Redania is the only force left defending the north still influential and powerful enough to defy the Black Ones. Yet everything turned out differently than I planned it."  
"You mean because Radovid striked you as more of a lunatic than a _stern?"_  
"I should have sensed it back in Loc Muinne. Executing the mages like that... he was already drifting." The Temerian crossed his arms and thoughtfully shook his head. Geralt could see that he was even more troubled than usual.  
"Forget about all that for now." Earlier he had promised to cheer him up, and if someone needed cheering up right now, it was the man next to him. Besides, the witcher was in no mood to talk about politics or wars, and he bet the others weren't either. _No being depressed all evening, my friend._ "Reliable sources pointed out you'd be playing gwent."  
Suddenly Dandelion and Zoltan turned their heads straight towards the commander. The poet, the dwarf and the witcher had been thinking about making a tournament sometimes, yet they lagged a fourth player. Attempts to convince Dudu had been an utter failure. To their delight Roche nodded, his dark thoughts seemingly gone as he replied.  
"Sure, I do. Yet there's never anyone to play against in the camp."  
"Great!" Dandelion stood up. "I say, we're having our tournament after all."  
"And what's some good rounds of cards without the booze, I ask ye?" Zoltan stood up too. "Going to fetch us some beer and you, commander, with me, aye?" He waved at Roche, suggesting him to help with the drinks. The Temerian narrowed his eyes and looked at the dwarf suspiciously. Geralt knew Vernon wasn't used to this, actually he was astounded, that he had come visit at all. Now that he was here though, the witcher would be trying to treat him just like the others. _I know you've changed for the better, now prove it!_ Not waiting for a reaction from the commander Geralt raised a hand up to his friend's shoulder and pushed, forcing the hesitant soldier to stand up. Roche looked at him in surprise.  
"You've heard the man, go!" Geralt crossed his arms and smirked and was actually proud of himself because Roche smiled. A little confused he was still, but he definetly smiled.  
"And you keep ordering me around!"  
"Yes, and I know you love it." He saw the commander shake his head, the smile not fading and then he turned around to follow the dwarf. As soon as they were out of sight, Dandelion came rushing back to the table, put both his hands on it's edge and stared at the witcher.  
"When, why, who, how? What have you done with the grim, misanthropic sadist I used to know?"  
"I had nothing to do with it, wait-" Geralt stopped mid-sentence. " _Grim, misanthropic sadist?_ He wasn't that bad." Dandelion looked at him and said nothing. Finally, the witcher resigned. "All right, I didn't like some of his methods, well, most of them, but I got to know him better, especially after the battle in Vergen. That man has lost so much, let's just try to leave it all behind today." The bard fixed his friend with his eyes and seemed to understand what he was saying.  
"From an inpartial perspective he seemed all right." Dudu raised his voice to join the discussion. "Pretty bitter, but friendly enough. And I know sadists when I see them, I'm a doppler after all, and if he ever was one, he certainly isn't anymore. A sadist I mean, not a doppler." Both Dudu and Geralt laughed at that.  
"Fine." Dandelion finally exclaimed, sitting down where he earlier sat and relaxed. "I can pretend to be unprejudiced. It's not like I'd antagonize him, after all he _was_ on our side. It's just unexpectedly strange to picture him among my friends." He took out his cards and went through them. "I will like him much more as soon as I stand triumphant."  
They all laughed again and had a little argument about who was going to win the tournament (Dudu actually put his bet on Zoltan, which caused the argument to take on absurd terms) when the dwarf and Roche came back, having an argument themselves. They were carrying a rather large barrel and because of their difference in height, the whole thing looked pretty awkward.  
"It's not my fault you're so damn short."  
"Just admit yours is no match for the strength of this dwarf."  
"I could carry that thing all by myself if I wanted to."  
"Oh shut up, the two of you!" Dudu shouted and stood up to fetch them all some mugs. Meanwhile, Geralt took out his cards as well. He was still building his deck but he was already satisfied with what he had. No reason to not improve even more, nevertheless.  
"Who's willing to play high stakes?" He asked around. "Winner takes the best card off the defeated."  
"Fine by me." Zoltan replied first while he and Roche lifted the barrel onto another, bigger barrel besides their table. Geralt looked at his Temerian friend, who nodded in agreement and then he turned his head to Dandelion. The bard seemed quite undecided.  
"My best card would in all manner be wasted in your hands, but otherwise... A fine and talented writer, whose name I sadly forgot, once said: Live the moment and find your spirit in the adventure."  
Geralt took that as a _yes_ and watched Dudu fill the first mug of beer, since the doppler sat closest to the barrel.  
"You know, Roche," Dandelion adressed the Temerian while sitting down. "I probably wouldn't have recognized you at all in this clothing. What happened to that uniform of yours I never thought you'd part with?"  
"I'm a wanted man now..." Geralt looked at him. Only they knew for certain what had happened in the estate of Phillippa Eilhart at the siege of Vergen. Many had their suspicions, rightfully so, but if Vernon Roche would be officially charged for regicide, he was done for.  
"What for?" He interrupted the commander, who looked at him right away. With only the hint of a head shake, Geralt ensured him, that the others had no idea what was going on.  
"Creating unrest in general. Could be worse but it's enough to mark me ripe for either the prison guard or the executioner." _Nothing new about Henselt then, good._ Geralt smiled.  
"You'll fit in perfectly then. We're all rebels and outcasts in some way or another."  
"That's an exclamation there, Geralt, bravo!" Dandelion said with excitement. He raised his mug. "Here's to us misfits!"

They ended up starting a second tournament, since Dandelion "refused to believe to be beaten at gwent by an amateur."  
"If Geralt's a bloody amateur, what do ye call yerself then, eh?" Zoltan laughed, obviously not shaken up by his loss.  
"This is a sure case of beginner's luck. Lay down your cards, Geralt, the evening can't just end like that. Dudu, pour me one more!" They've all had their fair share of alcohol and it was getting audible by now. No one was in any kind of unreasonable state, but it was already enough for them to accept the bard's challenge and continue playing. Even Roche seemed to be actually content.  
"You should know that I've had many opportunities to become a gwent master, Dandelion." Geralt mused and the poet nearly choked on his drink.  
"You are not suggesting to call a peasant in your local inn an "opportunity", are you? Because if you consider a haggle in between your monster hunts to be good practice-"  
"We can be holding a poetry contest next, if you are having losing issues." Roche joined the discussion.  
"That would hardly be what I called a 'competition'."  
"Who says you're the only good artist here?" Geralt raised one eyebrow and crossed his arms. He looked over to Dandelion. "You obviously haven't seen my performance."  
"And for that I'll always blame Menge and my other capturers."  
"You performed?" Roche asked in slight disbelief.  
"It was complicated." The witcher sat back and remembered that evening when he contacted Dudu via stageplay. Acting wasn't anything he'd ever do in his spare time but this particular experience was one memory he was actually proud of. He nodded contently as he replied and turned his head to Roche. "But yeah, I ended up on stage – quite the spectacle to behold."  
"No offence, Geralt, but to some extent I doubt your acting skills." The commander seemed to be amused – undoubtly influenced by the beer – yet unconvinced all the same.  
"And to what extent can _you_ judge an actor's talent, Vernon?"  
"As a matter of fact, I'm quite the expert." Geralt raised his eyebrows again. He reached out for the barrel for more beer as he waited for Roche to elaborate. "Back when I was at Foltest's court, the lords and ladies liked to indulge in high-classed festivities that included theater and music. I saw Temerias finest perform whenever I was present – the few times that I had be to at least. Trust me, if nothing else, I can detect a bad actor."  
"Good to know." Geralt answered while drinking. "Remind me to think twice before-"  
Suddenly an awfully loud bang broke the peaceful atmosphere and made the five men jump. The witcher was the first one to rush over to where he had put his sword for more comfort, while Dandelion kept standing by the table, cards still in his hands and turning his head around quickly as if to discover the cause of the explosion.  
"What in the world?!"  
"It came from up town-" Geralt started to explain but was interrupted by a man who came running into the cabaret in sheer panic.  
"Temple isle is in flames! The holy place is burning! _**Burning!**_ Someone has set ablaze the temple of the Eternal Fire, oh the outrage!" He screamed and it only confirmed what Geralt had thought he'd made out with his witcher senses. He was in no way a supporter of the church and was not at all sad about the idea of it's monument in shatters, yet if this was an attack on a bigger scale, he had to intervene to save civil lives.  
"I'll not be standing by." He said finally and looked back to Roche and Zoltan who had armed themselves as well.  
"Love me som' brawlin' after drinkin'." The dwarf said and eagerly headed outside with the taller men. 

Chaos and fear reigned on the streets. People were running away or watching in frozen fright how the fires up on the higher end of town consumed the enormous temple.  
"Not complaining, but who in the world could have the balls to pull that off?" Zoltan asked as they simply stood outside the Chameleon and stared into the illuminated night. A terrible thought suddenly crossed the witcher's mind. The words of a dear friend echoed in his brain. _We are planning something. Something big. I can't you what it is but you'll know it when you see it._  
"Let's go and find out!" 


	6. False Messiahs

1

Geralt had never seen the free city in such turmoil. As he ran through the streets and across the markets to reach Temple isle most citizens had already left their homes or were about to do so. The holy temple of the Eternal Fire coloured the night's sky in an infernal red as it burned, causing a strange atmosphere that seemed almost apocalyptic. There hadn't been any sign of the arsonists yet – in all probability were they to be found closer to uptown. Still followed by Roche and Zoltan, the witcher crossed Hierarch square where chaos was raging even more. A handful of lesser frightened citizens were using the mass panic to raid and plunder and Geralt halted at the sight of three thugs beating up a middle-aged couple of shop owners. With the Temple Guard occupied there was no one to protect the shelterless.  
"Vultures." He heard his Temerian friend say. Disgusted, the witcher drew his steel sword, ready to intervene. He knew he had priorities, he knew he should rather deal with the fire raiser first and not give a damn about some lesser thiefs. Before he had to decide anything though, Zoltan drew his weapon and swung it around. Taking a few steps forward he turned his head around and shouted.  
"Go get the pyromaniacs, eh? I'll get rid off the garbage!" With another rampant gesture he sent his two companions off and charged into the criminals, shouting dwarven battlecries along the way. Geralt looked at Roche and the Temerian nodded briefly before both of them turned around and made their way towards the church.

Saint Gregory's bridge was blocked and barricated and thus was their only way to upper town. As the two men were about to close in, one arrow was shot out of the low wall of barrels and boxes and only missed the witcher by an inch. With quick reflexes, both men retreated into the safe road they had been coming from.  
"Scoia'tael". Geralt mustered and felt that his troubling suspicion from before was being confirmed. If indeed this mayhem was the doing of Triss Merigold and Iorveth... He'd rather not think about it until he was given proof.  
Focusing on the question of how to get past the barricade he looked over to Roche who was pressed up against the wall beside him.  
"You wanna hear my opinion?" Roche asked with a frown. Geralt wasn't sure if the commander was offering a solution or if he was just about to make a nasty comment about the elves behind this attack.  
"Go ahead!" He said.  
Before the Temerian could answer though, a heavy bang shook the ground and made the two men cover. The witcher lost no time and ran back to the bridge, for that was where the bang had been coming from. The fires that had reached one of the greater buildings must have set aflame something explosive. Debris was falling down onto Saint Gregory's, smashing several elves undeneath. _It's now or never._  
"Run for it, now!" Geralt shouted and made a headstart towards the barricades. No arrows were fired and the defenders were obviously too distracted to notice the trespassers approach. As the swordsmen came jumping over their fortifications though, it was near impossible not to notice them. In close combat, these vagabonds were no match for the experienced fighters and three of them fell under their blades. They were about to make their way further up the bridge to face the remaining enemies when another explosion shook the bridge itself. The cracks were forming faster than any of them could have imagined and several rumbles foreshadowed the inevitable: The bridge was collapsing. 

2

Roche had no superhuman senses and was overwhelmed by the explosion. One second ago the rules were simple: Kill or be killed. Now it was only survival and he was sent to the ground by the harsh tremblings. He looked up and saw elves before him losing their balance on the crumbling rock, one could hardly call a 'bridge' by now, or getting smashed by parts of the collapsing building. Finally the ground underneath him gave in and the commander was falling with it. Rocks smashed all around beside him and he knew he was done for. Suddenly there was an arm around him and he was being pulled into a firm embrace. He opened his eyes and saw Geralt but by the time he got his orientation back, he was hitting the ground hard and felt the witcher land on his chest. A flash of yellow light exploded before his eyes but Roche instead fixed his eyes to the threat above. The bridge collapsed. _Sure as hell will bury us underneath._ With an act of strength he never knew he'd be capable of, the commander rolled himself and the witcher a few feet away. The main part of the enormous construction only missed them by chance but Roche realized it had nevertheless been a futile attempt to save themselves. Numerous smaller part of the debris followed and many went down on them. Yet instead of crushing the seemingly doomed, the remains of Saint Gregory's were shattered in further flashes of yellow light. _Witcher magic._  
They kept lying still for a few more seconds until Roche allowed himself to breathe once again in relief.  
"Still alive?" he heard his beloved witcher voice whisper. He sounded exhausted.  
"A mere wonder I am." The commander wanted to stand up but then he noticed that Geralt was still lying on top of him, his cheek on Roche's chest. All urge to stand up was forgotten and the seemingly unknown feeling called happiness grabbed hold of him. "If it wasn't for you I'd be biting the dust by now."  
"Don't thank me. Was merely using you as a cushion to land upon." A weak but sincere laugh escapted the witcher's throat and Roche had to chuckle as well. For what seemed about one minute, they stayed like this, not moving, not talking and completely ignoring their environment. They both needed some time to acknowledge that they were still alive. Until finally Geralt raised his head and looked at the commander below him.  
"Didn't break any bones, did you?" he asked and Roche believed he spotted a hint of concern in the witcher's voice.  
"No... sheltered me pretty well." He desperately tried to suppress a smile but failed utterly. The sight and feel of Geralt like this made him blush. The whole situation had changed so quickly. What had first seemed like the end of his life turned out to be it's best moment. He expected the witcher to stand up though so they could continue their fight. Instead, Geralt didn't move an inch and Roche tried to push the feelings away, like always. "That was a nice magic trick by the way."  
Geralt smiled. He closed his eyes for a moment and seemed to consider something. He then raised his hand above the commander's head and Roche watched as the man above him moved his fingers to let them form a gesture in the air.  
"It's called Quen." Suddenly they were surrounded by a glittering bubble of yellow light. Geralt's cat eyes seemed to sparkle in it's light. _Oh gods, I didn't deserve this._ The commander wanted to struggle away to evade an embarrasment for he didn't know how much longer he could contain himself. Too strong were the emotions flooding his brain. On the other hand he wanted to just keep lying right there and let the moment keep on going for all eternity.  
"Handy." Roche said as emotionless as he could manage. He hadn't struggled away. He hadn't moved. He didn't know where he would be going from here but he attempted to not let his feelings make a coward out of him. Geralt nodded, still not making any attempt to get off him.  
"It's not that complicated actually." _I only wonder why HE isn't standing up..._ "Once you know a few things about magic, signs like this don't seem that impressive anymore." _Maybe he is still too exhausted? Needs some rest?_ "Sorceresses don't even call it 'magic'" _No, I think he isn't. He had no problems casting that magic spell of his._ "Even you could learn it, if you aren't completely without talent." _He doesn't notice my face is all red, right? Not in this light. And my fucking heartbeat... He could think it's only the after-effect of the fall._ And there was the unsecurity again. "I'll teach it to you one day. When we have more time."  
"I would certainly approve." He heard his own voice tremble a bit. He hadn't been able to listen to everything the witcher had said and was surprised to be even able to utter an answer.  
"You're pretty shaken up." Geralt suddenly frowned. "Are you?" The way the witcher looked at him right now... _Fuck he knows, he probably knows!_  
"Only slightly." He murmured and the witcher surely had heard the switch from happiness to caution in his tone. Roche knew now was the time to either spit it out or ruin the opportunity. Of course he wanted Geralt to know what he felt, why he was acting the way he did but... The matter of the 'but' proved too strong.  
"If you think I'm unfit to keep fighting you're mistaken, witcher." Shit, that sounded _harsh._ The Rivian's expression changed as if he suddenly realized what had happened. He stood up, helping Vernon onto his feet in one smooth movement.  
"Speaking of a fight... We should probably head back to ours." He nodded towards a set of wooden stairs that led the way from the riverbank up to Temple Isle again. Roche silently nodded and after they collected their swords they marched back to battle.

The road to the temple was heavily fortified and if it wasn't for the Temple Guard and some witch hunters, they would never have made it up the stairs. It seemed like a full Scoia'tel unit of more or less than one hundred fighters were defending the main street. Roche and Geralt rushed through like berserkers, killing everything in their way. It seemed actually really easy until the ground started crumbling again. This time though, the trembling wasn't due to an explosion but of a collapsing rooftop that had given away to the fire. Roche watched the burning debris shatter on the ground a few feet in front of him and out of a reflex stopped running. More rumble came down as the upper walls of the already damaged house couldn't take the heat anymore too. The commander jumped back and covered his face with one arm for protection. As the dust cleared more or less, the whole road was blockaded. Geralt?  
"Geralt?"  
"I'm over here" he heard the voice of his friend shout from behind the debris. He had been faster and braver than the commander. Or simply more foolish... "You hurt?"  
"I'm fine!" Roche replied. "Go get the arsonists, they mustn't escape!"  
Without any more words the witcher seemed to have run off, for no reply followed. Roche turned around, to find another way to the temple but was halted by four Squirrels before him. 

3

Geralt was greeted by an extraordinary sight. He had made it to the temple of the Eternal Fire with only so much as a few scratches and as he arrived on the fire-lit square in front of the temple he saw pyres. Several priests were tied to the stakes and while a handful of elves were lighting them up, two figures were standing motionless in front of the scenery. It didn't took the witcher long to figure out who the tall elven man and the fairly shaped redhead were. The Grand Picket stood in flames yet hadn't taken any significant damage yet, or so Geralt reckoned. He stepped closer, ready to intervene and saw the elven leader walk slowly towards the head priest's execution site. He was the only priest that hadn't been set ablaze and he seemed to beg as the leader was given a torch by another elf.  
"You have no idea what you have brought upon yourself and your people, elf scum! Untie me now, you shall still find forgiveness and cleansing." Though he kept on talking, no untying was iniciated and though the executioner murmured some words, it was no plead for forgiveness.  
"Higher, higher... die on the pyre" he recited and tossed the torch unto the wood to make it burn. As the dying priest's cries echoed through the night, Geralt finally was close enough to be noticed.  
"What's going on here?" He basically shouted and caused the redhead woman to turn around, startled.  
"Geralt?" Triss finally exclaimed and the startle was replaced by some kind of relief.  
"This what you meant? Is this your great plan, your brilliant distraction?" The witcher was half way furious now. He just couldn't believe it. Triss had shown before that she could be fierce and even violent. She had even said, that she didn't differ from all the bastards she tried to fight. But this... The witcher didn't care so much about the priests, yet this was wrong on so many scales.  
The sorceress wasn't given an opportunity to reply as Iorveth stepped between them.  
"We did what we came here for, if you need some time to argue do it elsewhere. Triss, we're leaving now!" The sorceress nodded and started preparing energy. Turning to Geralt before she casted the spell, she said:  
"Come with us Geralt. If you want me to explain everything..."  
The witcher didn't react, only frowned a little more and watched as the portal was formed and how Triss and Iorveth disappeared in it. Presumably the portal led to the Scoia'tel hideout. It really wasn't much of a choice. As soon as the Scoia'tel fighters would have made their retreat, Temple Isle would be reclaimed by the guards. No matter on whose's side he had fought, if the hunters found a witcher in this peculiar situation, he was ripe for one pyre too. He hated portals, but he stepped inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it took me very Long, but rest assured that I've not given up on this. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading. :-)


	7. The Homecoming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've changed the rating from Mature to Explicit, so you'll probably know what's in store this chapter. ;-)  
> Be sure to leave a comment but above all: Enjoy!

1

Within moments the witcher had left the burning inferno that used to be the proud capital city to be thrown into the calm elven forest hideout. Not literally thrown, as Triss' portal gently spawned him on the ground. As soon as he had adapted to the new environment, the magic teleportation matter behind him dissapeared into thin air, leaving him alone with the two firestarters he had arrived with.  
Iorveth. Picturing someone like him to set aflame an old city's monument wasn't that hard. Triss on the other hand...  
As Geralt watched his former love recovering a little from the expiration of teleporting three persons at once, he started questioning what he had just seen. One minute ago, the usually gentle woman had cruelly murdered unarmed priests for... what reason exactly? The witcher took two steps forward, cautiously, to see if his stomach had stopped twisting and turning (he hated portals) and was thouroughly pleased that it had. Before he could join the two, though, the peaceful silence of the nightly woods was interrupted by yells and laughter. They found themselves surrounded by cheering elves, undoubtly welcoming their victorious heroes back. Among all the noise, Geralt could clearly make out shouts that said "Iorveth!" "Iorveth!". He shook his head a little and watched as the happy and confident Iorveth jumped on a tree stump. The elven rebel held up his hands to make the crowd calm down a little. He began to speak in the elder speech.  
"Radovid caen me a'baeth aep arse!“ Geralt would have expected some rather melodramatic platitudes of how they will bring freedom or justice to their race. Instead the cheers he earned were for a rather original "Radovid can kiss my arse!".  
"We'll teach them not to mess with us! Not to slaughter us. And not to make us hide in the woods. But this has only been the first step and from now on, matters will get more complicated. But let us not dwell on bleak thoughts. For now, prepare a feast to greet our fellow Scoia'tael once they return. A celebration for our heroes and our martyrs. We will honour this night to their lecagy." With this he jumped down again and ordered a few men to arrange tables, music, drinks and food for the feast. Geralt lost no further time and approached Triss, who hadn't moved an inch.  
"Understood all of it?" The sorceress turned her head around and smiled faintly.  
"Enough." She looked away again, a strange sensation glimmering in her eyes. Geralt had originally wanted to adress her harshly to make her feel bad for what she had done but saw now, that this wouldn't be necessary. He wanted to go on as Iorveth suddenly joined them.  
"Care to have a drink with me, Triss?" he said almost romantically. Geralt couldn't tell why excactly but something about his relashionship with Triss made him completely furious.  
"Why don't you go prepare your feast while I'll have a word with my friend?" He gave a death stare to the elf, closed one arm around the sorceress and turned them both around. Something twitched in the elf's face.  
"Isn't that _her_ decision?"  
"She heard enough of you already." Geralt said, escorting the shaken up woman away from the inhabitated areas.

They walked for a long time through the forest without saying a word. Triss really seemed to be worried and so was he. When he had put his arm around her in front of Iorveth, in that kind of protective way she despised, she didn't complain. She hadn't said one word, hadn't even looked at her elven... friend (?) for more than a second. He knew this was a bad sign.  
"Wanna talk?" He said cautiously, not trying to look at her.  
"I..." she spoke up, her voice a little firmer than it was in the hideout before. Them walking away from all the crowd seemed to have done her good. "I think I have some explanation to do."  
"I was thinking more about how you were feeling." The sorceress looked up at him, a little surprised. "In the camp you seemed... doubtful. Or am I wrong?"  
She nodded a little. " I don't know what to believe anymore. My only desire was to save the mages in Novigrad but now... I don't know if the price is maybe too high. What do we even have achieved by setting half the city on fire?"  
Geralt looked at her. She really seemed distressed. More than after what had happened in Menge's torture chamber.  
"If you are blaming yourselves because of the priests-"  
"Certainly not. At first I was reluctant, insisting not to kill them, but Iorveth showed me their true natures. Do you know what we found inside the temple?"  
The witcher blinked cluelessly. "Bodies and cages. They have kept nonhumans in there. Tortured in many ways. We could only help them by quickly ending their suffering. It was there I understood, that the priests were no better than the witch hunters. What would you have done in my place? In Iorveth's place?"  
"Probably the same, only in a different way. But if it's not that, then where do the doubts come from?"  
"It's..." she sighted and closed her eyes for a while.  
"It has something to do with Iorveth, doesn't it?" Geralt finished the sentence for her and crossed his arms.  
"Can we sit down for a while, Geralt?"  
"Sure." He lead the way to a clearing in the forest, where erupted a small hill. Ignoring her preferations for the luxurious, Triss sat down in the soft grass. Geralt joined her. Somehow he was glad, that there seemed to be a problem between the sorceress and the elf, even though he knew the thought was childish.  
When none of them said a word, he spoke up again.  
"So, mind if I ask, what exactly is it between you and Iorveth?" He frowned in confusion as she began to laugh.  
"It isn't anything yet..." _Yet_. Geralt had heard that. He continued to listen. "Anyway, the point is, that I had decided to trust him. I knew completely well about his intentions. He knew I wasn't going to support his methods and I knew, he wouldn't help me for the sake of the mages. But now... I seem to be caught up in someone's cause and I don't like it. And I don't know if I can handle the mages' escape alone. Iorveth is the only one willing to help me who has enough men and leadership qualities."  
"Don't you think you're making yourself a little dependent?"  
"Isn't that exactly my point?" She sighted again and probably out of habid leaned herself against Geralt's shoulder. The witcher could see that she was on the verge of mental collapse. She was a strong woman, but all of this had exhausted her. He wanted to embrace her, to give her a little security, but he knew this would be the worst thing he could do right now. He definetely needed to talk serious with Iorveth. The Scoia'tael should be glad to have such a fine woman sticking around with him.  
"Triss. You don't need anyone's help. You don't need to make any compromises and you don't need to blame yourself of all people."  
"Deep down I know that, but still..." She sounded a little insecure, but her tone was becoming determined again. "There is just no one else to lead the the mages. In a way it is my responsibility."  
"What if I were to help you?" She sat straight again and looked at him. "Lending you my witcher's blades and my advice as a friend. You'll be in charge."  
She smiled. "Actually, that's what I wanted to ask you too."  
"And they say witchers aren't empathic." She had to laugh and he joined her. He was glad she had broken out of her grim mood. He stood up and held out a hand to her. Still snickering, she took it and came to stand next to him.  
"What's the matter, Geralt?"  
"The Scoia'tael have returned. Hear that? They are starting the music." She looked at him in a funny frown. "Right, no witcher senses, sorry. Care to join the celebration?"  
"Mmh..." she walked a few steps back and forth "I think a little diversion will do me just fine. Just make sure I'll not get drunk again." She laughed and slowly they went back, making silly jokes along the way to keep the mood up.

2

"Iorveth?"  
"Is it important?" The elven leader turned around to face the boy that had adressed him. He knew he was the son of two of his soldiers, who had been with him since Flotsam – a true Scoia'tael, even though he was one that wasn't ever going to be a formidable soldier.  
"I, err... Viriath sent me. He said he brought something of value from Novigrad for you." Iorveth raised his eyebrows, nodded firmly and sent the errand boy on his way. Definetely interested he arranged only a few more things for his men, who were by now returning one after one. Many had gotten out of their inferno. More even than he had anticipated and it only fueled his plans for more attacks. Maybe not on this big a scale, but a few raids here and there should draw enough attention.  
After placing the organizing part into someone's equally capable hands, he went to see Viriath. The elf was waiting for him on a secluded spot at the edge of the camp. With him – three warriors who followed his command and the body of another man, hooded and only held in a kneeling position by two of Viriath's men. A prisoner? A trophy? Or the dead body of someone of importance?  
"What is the meaning of this, Viriath?"  
"We found this one in the city. Captured him for you."  
"I don't need any prisoners. Who is this?" Viriath pulled off the hood to reveal a black-haired, unconscious human. It was late at night and this part of the camp was only scarcely lit, yet Iorveth recognized the prisoner in an instant.  
"It can't be _him_." He mumbled to himself and moved closer. He crouched in front of the kneeling and put a hand under his chin to inspect him. He hadn't been mistaken. It really was Vernon Roche. He hadn't changed a bit since they last met in Flotsam. Iorveth had nearly been killed that day. That day... and on many more before that. How often had the Temerian sniffed out his Scoia'tael hideouts, how many of his men had he personally killed or tortured or both? With his free hand Iorveth grabbed the hilt of his dagger. He didn't want to kill the Blue Stripes commander now, but he felt strong hatred rising up in him again. With alot of psychical strength he let his chin drop again and stood up.  
"Well done, men. Lock him up somewhere safely and make sure he is not being murdered by someone bearing a grudge. That is _my_ job."  
"He killed my brother three years ago." Viriath said.  
"And I got locked up with Ciaran and a few others in that barge in Flotsam. He will pay for that." One of the men grimly said. The elven leader nodded.  
"He will. In due time. For now, fetch some water to wake him up. You," He nodded at one of the soldiers "prepare a room to lock him up in."  
While the two warriors were on their way, Iorveth watched the unconscious body again. There was something in him – beside all the hatred - that appreciated seeing his arch enemy like this. Not uncoscious, or imprisoned but peaceful. Iorveth knew, it was some kind of deep respect, that had kept him from just murdering him right now. Of all the humans he knew, of all he called his enemies (and these were many), Roche was the only one with true guts and courage. The only one he couldn't see as just another target. In this he was kind of special. He knew his men could only feel hatred for the Temerian, and he didn't blame them. Still, he would be keeping him alive as long as he would be able to. If his own hatred wouldn't get the better of him.  
The warrior whom he had sent out to fetch the water returned, a bowel in his hands. Without any further ado, he emptied all of it over the unconscious and made him immediately wake up. Iorveth watched in content as the Temerian gasped and shook his head a little to get rid of the water. Pain was evident in his human face. He looked around and as soon as his gaze met with Iorveth's the Temerian began to struggle, in vain of course.  
"Fuck!" He growled through gritted teeth and delivered a nasty death stare to his despised elven nemesis.  
"Your struggles are in vain, dh'oine. You are mine now. No one is ever gonna find you here." The look he got from Roche made Iorveth grin. He enjoyed the power he had for the first time over the Temerian.  
"You son of a bitch! As soon as I get my hands on your throat, and you know I will-"  
"You'll never get that opportunity again." He made a hand gesture to make his men lift Roche up to his feet. With his hands bound behind his back this proved no easy task and the dizziness from being unconscious made it obviously hard for him to hold his balance. Iorveth moved closer to his prisoner until he stood directly in front of him. With a threatening low voice he whispered. "I'm not gonna kill you. Not until you have paid for all the lives you have taken. Until you beg for mercy. And when the time comes, you'll realize I can be very merciful." He watched Roche to see what effect his threat had but the only thing he noticed was that he should never have underestimated the Temerian. The pain spread quickly from his forehead into his his brain as he was recklessly headbutted and cursed upon. A strong punch in the stomach from Viriath made the prisoner shut up again and instead hiss in pain.  
"You're gonna learn your lesson soon enough, dh'oine. Away with him." With more curses and insults, the Temerian was brought away and Iorveth took the time to rub his forehaed. Not that it still hurt, but he used the remaining pain as a reminder. That Roche wouldn't be broken easily, that there was another challenge left. The elf grinned shortly and made his way back to the celebration. He _liked_ challenges.

3

Geralt and Triss had only just returned from their little trip and were still laughing. Triss had begun to tell a rather strange tale about Phillipa Eilhard and they sat down next to a bright campfire. Two elven bards were playing the lute and a few elves had already started dancing around. The sorceress finished her tale and the two of them just listened to the music for a while. Geralt turned around to grab some food from the table behind him and offerend a handfull of berries to Triss, who happily accepted. The witcher looked around and saw Iorveth joining a few Scoia'tael at a table.  
"Maybe you should talk to him."  
"Mh?" Triss followed his gaze and nodded. She swallowed the last berries and stood up. "This would be the best." She walked past the witcher and straight up to the rebel leader. Geralt knew of course, how well she could handle it, yet he focused his witcher senses just to make sure.  
"You look like you play, vatt'ghern." An elf of young age sat down beside him, distracing him a little. He could hear though how Iorveth offered a chair to the sorceress and greeting her politely. Suddenly all gentleman...  
"I do play, we are talking gwent, aren't we?" He asked if she was alright. What that with "the vatt'ghern" was all about. "That's between Geralt and me." The witcher smiled in confidence after hearing this.  
"Of course we are! Nobody plays dice poker anymore. So, you game?" Her tone went really serious, yet firm as she told him, she would be leaving the camp tomorrow.  
"I'm game." He went to pull out his card deck as he waited for Iorveth's reaction. The young elf in front of him used the Scoia'tael faction. Easy prey. "Well, that was our deal, wasn't it?" He heard Iorveth say. The little hint of sadness or disappointment was obvious for witcher's ears. He said he regretted that he and the sorceress didn't share the same goals. That they had been a fine team. His contrahent used his perk to start the round and laid down the Avallac'h card. A spy that early?  
"I share your regrets." Triss mumbled. Geralt looked up and saw her blush a little. He rolled his eyes. The young elven gwent player really didn't have a good deck. "Well, I guess there is nothing stopping me from asking you, if you'd like to have a drink then." Drinks are for free, Iorveth. You needn't ask her if she'd want one. Elf's ways to be a charmer, Geralt guessed. "I'd like that, yes." Obviously the rebel's charm worked on the sorceress. He looked up again and saw her smiling her adoring smile, while Iorveth himself seemed actually not grim and cold. The witcher sighted in annoyance. "Game's boring you?" the elf in front of him asked.  
"No. Just have my mind on that thing and I can't get it out of my head." He used his Vesemir card and already had a lot more points rounded up than his opponent.  
"Do tell. I drank enough to be able to listen." _Where's the harm?_  
"You know the feeling when you know a woman? A really fine woman, a little better than any man deserves and you see her getting on with that one shady person she should stay away from?"  
"Well, not really, no." _Well, why do I even bother?_ Time for his John Natalis Hero card to win the round. "I know we might not be seeing us again, so..." Geralt suddenly was all ears again. A sentence coming from Iorveth that started like this could only mean something bad. As he looked up he saw Triss with her emptied glass of wine frowning lightly in the elf's direction. "... would you like to go somewhere else?" Triss narrowed her eyes a little though not in rejection or indignation but in curiosity. "Let's go out for a walk." The elf proposed a little bit more cautiously now.  
"You won, I can't believe it!" Said the card player aloud. Geralt saw Triss nod and they stood up to disappear silently behind an elven hut.  
"Didn't really feel like it."  
"Well, there's always a second chance where you least expect it. Up for another round?"

4

He could hear music and laughter. Bloody elves were surely celebrating after what they had done in the city. They had locked him up in some kind of storage room in a hut with virtually no way to escape. There weren't any windows in this room and the door was barred from the other side. The Temerian had sat down on a barrel and hadn't moved for a couple of minutes. Was hard to move at all with his hands bound behind his back. He was getting thirsty, but didn't really care. All he could think of now was Iorveth. Why did it have to be him? The bloody Scoia'tael he had always been unable to kill. Truth to be told, when he and Geralt had found out that it were Scoia'tael behind the attack, an image of Iorveth had flashed through his mind. Not as the possible arsonist himself but more as a symbol for all the bad things concerning elves. Waking up in front of him had at first felt like a really mean nightmare. He wondered if the elves had gotten Geralt too. If he had survived. Last thing he knew of him was how they got seperated. Damn, he should've just told him how he felt after they had fallen down that bridge... At least then he would've known. Now, well... he wouldn't be getting another chance for sure. He was thinking realistically. It was a surprise he hadn't been slaughtered brutally yet and it would surely only be a matter of time until that would happen.  
Suddenly he heard a door open and shut again after a few seconds. Great, just in time. Men were talking in the elven language in front of his room. At least three. Roche stood up as he heard furniture being pushed away from in front of the door. He slowly breathed in and out, ready to brace himself. He would not let himself be murdered without taking at least one elf with him. Hopefully Iorveth.  
The lock clicked as the door key was being used and Roche tried in vain again to open the leather straps that bound his hands together.  
The door opened and three elves entered the room. He knew two of them. The one who had entered first was the one, that had knocked him out. Viriath they had called him. The other one had been in Flotsam. Roche didn't move an inch and fixed his eyes menacingly on Viriath.  
"Remember my brother, Finnean?"  
"Remember _me_?" The Flotsam elf added. This was definetely not going to end well, Roche thought.  
"You look all the same to me." He said in his coldest voice. Rage flashed up in the Flotsam elf's eyes and he jumped forward. Roche tried to dodge the blow but wasn't quick enough and felt the elven fist painfully hit his stomach. He gasped because of the lack of air and when the elf hit him a second time he collapsed to his knees.  
"Just bloody kill me you fuckers!" he managed to hiss and his voice was filled with pure hatred. He raised his head as he heard the elves begin to laugh in canon. He used the little distraction to stand up again. As soon as he was on his feet, the Flotsam elf pushed him, still grinning in a vile way and Roche stumbled backwards. Without his hands he lost his balance and landed on the barrel where he was sitting before.  
"You won't die today." Viriath commenced. Suddenly the two elves under his command stepped closer and surrounded the Temerian. He tried to move but two strong hands on each side kept him from it. His struggles were in vain but he didn't stop, not even as Viriath began beating him. "You won't die, no. But you will break today, dh'oine." Furious, he kept hitting him hard and Roche soon was out of air and unable to continue struggling. With all strength, that was left in him, he tried to kick Viriath where it hurt the most, but missed and only hit the elf in the side. Suddenly the hands that held him pushed him from the barrel and he landed hard on the floor. He stayed on his knees and tried to catch his breath. Great, he was in for a serious beating. His whole body already hurt but it wasn't anything he wouldn't endure.  
"Out of breath already, Temerian boy?"  
"Fuck you!" He said and began standing up. He didn't come far though, as three elven boots kicked him in the back to keep him on the ground.  
"Not a wise choice of words." Viriath laughed and suddenly Roche was lifted up by the two other elves and felt himself being shoved violently against the barrel. What the-? He tried to turn around but Viriath moved in very close behind him and knocked his head onto the barrel. Roche hissed, completely unable to move. He felt the elf's body press against his and finally – finally - he realized what was going on as he felt Viriath's other hand moving down his waist until it stopped once it had found his belt.  
"Don't even think about this, you bastard!" Roche tried to shout but was quickly silenced by a powerful hit in the side from the Flotsam elf. Struggling didn't achieve anything and he helplessly felt how Viriath unbuckled his belt. His heart made a few jumps as his soon-to-be rapist bucked his hips two times against Roche's ass to let him feel his erection. _This isn't happening, this isn't really happening_ the Temerian thought. He could hear his heartbeat quick and loud and he knew it wasn't because of fear or hatred. His trousers were pulled down and he wanted to shout another insult in desperation, but couldn't. His voice and body failed him. He only hissed as Viriath gave him a firm slap on his buttocks.  
"Not ugly for a human, at least I'll give you that." Roche concentrated on the hatred.  
"You are gonna die, elf! I'll kill you so godsdamn painfully."  
No reply followed and the elf's hand moved away from the Temerian. He could hear how the Scoia'tael fumbled one-handedly with his belt as well and he began to struggle again. He was hit from the left and the right again but didn't stop to make a stand. There was no chance to break free though and after the seventh hit he submitted, out of breath and in pain. He heard how another set of pants was pulled down and couldn't suppress a short whimper as he felt the other man's length press against his ass. His breathing sped up and the fact, that he was so torn between excitement, hatred and humiliation made everything worse.  
Viriath spat on his hand and Roche felt wet fingers penetrating him. He had given up to try and struggle more and just let it happen. Partly because he knew it would be to no avail but also because another significant part of him didn't want this to stop. Rape or not – he had wanted this for a long time now. Seemed it was either to be like this or not at all.  
"Giving up the struggle, are you?" Viriath asked with an audible grin. He put his hand on Roche's shoulder and positioned himself. The Flotsam elf said something in elvish and all of them laughed. The Temerian was about to curse them when suddenly Viriath moved closer and invaded him. Roche gasped to the elves' amusement and before he could adjust to the sensation the man behind him started to move back and forth in him. There was some pain at first, which made it easy for Roche to concentrate on the disgust in him. After a few thrusts, Viriath grabbed firm hold of his prisoner's shoulder and began to shove himself deeper into the Temerian. Roche began to breathe heavily and the thoughts of anger were slowly replaced by pleasure.  
"No no no no no..." he whispered and if all of that wasn't bad enough, he felt a certain body part of his rising, adding to this humiliation.  
The elf quickened his movement, forcing the Temerian to slide back and forth against the barrel. He had his eyes shut tight, trying in vain not to enjoy this. Not stopping, Viriath grabbed his victim by the hair and pulled him closer to him. Roche could hear from the elf's breathing that he was obviously really turned on and although he thought of struggling right now, he didn't. The elf suddenly moved nearly out of him, only to violently shove all of his cock deep inside the Temerian at once. Roche gasped and managed to move away a little.  
"You're not gonna escape from me now." The elf behind him whispered and pushed Roche against the barrel again. The Temerian whimpered as the other man pressed himself up against him, forcing his cock as deep inside as it was possible. For a few moments they stayed like this, until the rapist started ravaging Roche's body once more with violent, deep thrusts. The Temerian endured this for a a few minutes before exhaustion and a little pain took hold of him and he weakly tried to get away again. He didn't really feel the slap to his face, as the sensation below became too strong. He closed his mouth to be able to suppress the moans and lowered his head onto the barrel.  
"Damn you... just damn you to hell." He managed to whisper weakly and his self-control failed him for a moment and he let out another whimper. Viriath used the opportunity to thrust even more savagely into his suffering victim. Roche's heavy breathing had become more of a gasping for air and while it was still some kind of pleasure he got from all this violation, it was somewhat unbearable and simply too much to be fully enjoyable.  
"How does that feel, dh'oine?" Viriath asked, himself a little exhausted. "Helpless and without power..." He pulled the commander down by his shoulders, impaling him in steady rhythm.  
"Here you are all alone. We'll do with you whatever we want. And no king nor army nor witcher is gonna save your ass this time." Witcher, he said... maybe there was hope left. Roche couldn't think about hope though. He couldn't think of anything anymore. Viriath continued assaulting him and the commander had begun to see stars. He focused all of his remaining energy to suppress any sounds. He wasn't going to indignify himself by showing pleasure or pain. He felt Viriath's hands claw into his shoulders and his thrusts became irratic. Finally. With two last deep jolts, the elf behind him came to a rest and Roche felt the warm liquid shooting up inside him.  
After a few seconds of recovering, Viriath retreated out of him with some kind of popping noise and the two elves who held his sides also let go of him. Without their support, the Temerian collapsed on the floor, breathing heavily and thanking whatever gods he didn't pray to, that it was over.  
"You bastards..." he said weakly, yet the elves didn't react. They left him lying on the side, used and exhausted with his pants halfway down and left the room. Before the Flotsam elf left however, he took the time to kick Roche in the guts once more.  
"Don't think this was the last time." He said coldly and joined the others outside. The Temerian coughed as a result from the kick but managed a smirk, that the elf couldn't see anymore. They had left the door open long enough for him to analyse the other room. Mistake.  
He closed his eyes and tried to get his heartbeat and breath under control, while he heard how the door to the room was being barred again. His heartfelt hatred for the Scoia'tael had only grown stronger. He would never forgive them for what they have done.  
On the other hand had they granted him a long-wanted experience. His first time couldn't have been worse or under worse circumstances but for him it still meant something. Now at least he wouldn't be completely unexperienced when... he shook his head. He was exhausted and in some kind of early-state delirium. He tried to banish all thoughts that didn't include hate for some elves and gathered his strength to sit up. Even though he didn't like the thought he should get some sleep. Wouldn't be able to live through the next day if he was overly tired. He knew he would only get out of this place by himself but he needed a rest for that. First though he'd have to try and put his trousers back on. Without hands this would be going to take long.


	8. Commanding the Fury

1

After a few rounds of gwent, Geralt had lost all interest in staying further. It had been two hours now, and he was worrying about his friends in Novigrad. Undoubtly Dandelion and Zoltan were alright for they had been fighting (or in Dandelion's case – providing moral support) downtown. Roche on the other hand...  
He was about to leave, as he saw Triss and Iorveth return from their whatever they did. They weren't talking, but he noticed the friendly aura that surrounded them and saw their smiles. _Whatever_. He tried hard not to care anymore, and it almost worked this time. He stood up from the bench he shared with his card playing companion whose name he never knew, and approached her. The Redhead spotted him and whispered, "Leave us for a few, alright?" to Iorveth. The elf nodded and sook the company of a group of a few dozen of his men at a table. Geralt waited for Triss to reach him and opened his mouth to-  
"Don't." Triss stopped him, before he could even say a thing. "Iorveth and me – it's not what you think it is."  
"Huh." Geralt wondered, raising an eyebrow. "And exactly what do I think it might be?"  
Triss shrugged lightly, leading him to another unoccupied table a little off-view from the drunken dancers and Iorveth. They sat down and Triss spoke softly to him.  
"It's over now. It was a bad idea from the start and I'm leaving in a few days. I'll be going with the mages from Novigrad." She made a brief pause. "Alone. Iorveth can't abandon his men and we just said our good-byes."  
By the way her cheeks were still slightly blushing, Geralt could imagine exacly how their "good-byes" had been said. He looked down and focused the table. A sole candle's light lit it dimly, making the two's shadows flicker on it.  
"I will miss you, Triss." He said sincerly and looked at her.  
"Me too, Geralt." She smiled, but melacholically. "Me too..."

 

Roche awoke by the sound of the outer door opening and by the voices of the elves that entered. He hadn't slept well, but was happy about at least a little recovered energy. As the elves moved towards his "cell"-door outside, he shakily stood up and pressed his back against the wall to the right of the door. It would be a desperate attempt to break free and he was nearly certain he wouldn't be able to escape, but he would rather fail a hundred times than die without risking it.  
The elves kept talking in their language and he could hear them just behind the door. Since it had no lock, he heard the furniture moving in front of it again to expose the door. Something heavy fell to the ground, and one of the elves started cursing while the rest began to laugh. Roche's heart made a quick jump of hope. His want-to-be tormenters seemed to be drunk!  
The door finally opened, sliding between the commander and the elves, who now entered the room. His assumption from before was proven correct, as the elf that stumbled into his view (and whom he had never seen before), halted to look around in confusion. Without thinking anymore, Roche jumped into action. Before the other two or three elves had the chance to get inside, the commander slammed the door shut by hitting it savagely with his body to temporarly seal himself with the drunk in front of him. Still in high velocity he kicked the elf in the back and sent him flying towards the infamous barrel, where he collapsed. Poor drunken sod had probably not even known what had hit him.  
The door flung open again and Viriath, a little drunk himself by the looks of it, and two other elves rushed into the room to face the Temerian. They were many and he had his hands bound, but Roche wasn't afraid, not even an ounce. He was the hunter this night, the elves his prey. All three of them attacked him simulteanously but without coordination. He could dodge two clumsy attacks by Viriath and one of his lackeys but the other one hit him in the face. The commander slammed him in the stomach using his elbow and quickly rolled to the side, evading the other's attacks.  
He was closer to the door now, and as he stood up, he decided to let the fighting go and just run for it now. He nearly lost his balance since he wasn't accustomed to running and fighting for his life with his hands on his back, but he managed to flee through the door and out of the hut. His pursuers though, were not far off. The Temerian knew: One mistake and they had him; One stumble and he would be in chains again. For real this time, probably. He never had needed much time to orientate himself, but even he couldn't see much in the dimly moonlit forest in front of him. Lights and noises were coming from the elven settlement and presented him with zero choice. He had to take his chances in the forest. If at least he knew where he were or which direction to run to. _Doesn't matter_ , he thought, while he fled, _that knowledge wouldn't help me anyway right now._  
The light from the elven settlement faded quickly and not running into trees or tripping over rocks or roots was becoming a challenge. His body began to hurt again, a souvenir from Viriath's earlier visit. He could hear the aforementioned behind him as the hunters came closer. His vision became blurry from the pain and it was getting harder to see. _They surely know the forest better tha-_  
The ground hit him hard as he stumbled over a tree's root. Without his hands to help him control the fall, he hit his head on the ground and slided a few meters before his body came to a stop. His head hurt so much, he couldn't even feel it. All around him was a blur and as he tried to stand up to continue his escape, he realized he had no idea where "up" even was. Suddenly he was lifted and hit in his stomach again, but he didn't really care.  
"Feeling lucky still?!" He heard somewhere in the distance and someone grabbed his hair and forced his head to look at him. _Focus! Focus, you son of a whore! Don't let them take you back..._ He thought to himself, but it was easier said than done.  
"What do we do with him now, Viriath?" asked the elf behind him.  
"Lock him up again." Viriath answered and Roche, despite all his pain and disorientation managed to smirk a little.  
"Got any reason to be so smug, d'hoine?" Somehow through all of this darkness, the elf had seen his exression and tightened the grip on his hair.  
"Go on..." Roche tried to say but managed only to whisper it. "Lock me up, if you dare. But you should just kill me now, you know. Because I will try over and over until I am free. And when I am..." He stopped briefly, as his vision got all blurry again. "... I will come back. And I will burn down your houses, slay your women and children and I won't stop there, I'll-"  
"That's enough!" The man behind him shouted and kicked him at the back of his leg, forcing the commander onto his knees. "I agree with him. He's already due to die anyway!"  
"It's not our decision to make." The other nameless elf said and nodded towards the camp. "What say you, Viriath?"  
Roche's rapist and torturer thought a moment about it before he answered. "I say the sooner this one dies, the better." 

 

Geralt and Triss hadn't been talking a lot more. Both of them were partly lost in thoughts and took their times sitting in moderate silence.  
"I'll be heading back to Novigrad, see if everyone's fine." The witcher interrupted the quiet and received a nod from Triss.  
"Me too. I have preparations to make. A lot of preparations." She smiled at him, but looked troubled, stressed.  
"You know you can count on me Triss." He said. "We'll get your mages out of this city. With the panic that'll spread after tonight, we'll have an advantage."  
"At least it served it's purpose, then." Triss sounded unconvinced, but a little less troubled after Geralt's help assurance.  
They stood up and went on to leave.  
"You're not gonna kiss him good-bye?" Geralt looked over to the elven leader and smirked childishly.  
"You do realize I could burn you alive right now." Triss responded shaking her head in disbelief. "Let's go, monster-slayer." She said and started to swirl her hands.  
"You're not planning on-"  
"Yes, Geralt, yes I do. You need to overcome your fear of portals one day."  
"I'm not afraid, I just don't lik-" He started, but was interrupted by a commotion that had started among the elves back on the festive grounds. Triss had heard it too and halted the summoning. They turned around and saw the elves all assembled in one spot around the fireplace, shouting and waving their arms in aggression.  
"What's going on?" The redhead asked, but Geralt had no response.  
"Nothing good judging from the tone of their voices." He listened to what was being said as he started to walk towards them. The group still prevented him to see the accused.  
_"Bloede foelw"_  
“Thu yn marw”  
“Var'he blas fy dur”  
He had guessed alright: someone was in big trouble. He heard Iorveth say something he couldn't quite make out and as he reached the crowd, shoving his way through the men and women, he heard another, well-known voice:  
“Killing me now or what, elf?” Geralt pushed through the elves to see his friend, Vernon Roche, on his knees in front of Iorveth. The elven leader was holding a knife in his hand, though Geralt wasn't sure what he was going to do with it. Both Iorveth's and Roche's eyes focused on him immediately as he made his entrance.  
“Geralt!?” Roche shouted in a mixture of relief and disbelief. The witcher had rarely seen the commander that happy.  
“Step away, vatt'ghern, this doesn't concern you!” Iorveth warned him, but Geralt took no heed and without responding, cast the Aard sign and sent a wave of concentrated force towards the three men that held the Temerian down. As it hit, three screams of surprise were heard as the men were sent flying and Roche ducked even more, knowing Aard's devastating effects.  
“I am warning you one last time!” Iorveth shouted, reaching for the hilt of his sword. As his men, who were surrounding the witcher did the same, Roche stood up and joined his white-haired friend. With a quick gesture, Geralt burned the rope that held the Temerian's wrists. He heard scimitars being drawed and turned around to face Iorveth.  
“Roche goes with me.” He said plainly. He would risk the fight, even if they were clearly outnumbered. He wasn't keen on killing Iorveth, but if there would be no other option he'd have to do it. He was aware of how much the elf hated Roche, and of how much Roche hated the elf, and he surely doubted that this could be handled peacefully.  
“He's mine, and he'll pay for every single elf he's slain.”  
“Fine...” Geralt sighted and drew both his swords. There will be slaughter then. He handed one blade to his fighting companion and Roche took it.  
“Stupid to throw your life away for me, witcher.” The Temerian said, but Geralt didn't answer. He saw Iorveth draw his curved elven sword and prepared for battle. As he positioned himself back-to-back with Roche, he suddenly felt a grip around his arm.  
“Hold on tight!” Shouted Triss and the next moment the witcher found himself swirling through space and landed on the forest ground at least a mile away from were he had been before.

2

“What the fuck just happened?” Geralt heard Roche beside him mumble. He sat up, to find the commander unhurt, sword still in hand and looking at him in confusion.  
“I teleported us out...” They turned around to find Triss standing behind them, hands on her knees and breathing heavily. “That took me a fair amount of energy, but I'll be fine.”  
Geralt stood up, followed by Roche.  
“Thank you Triss. Couldn't have forseen that would happen.”  
“Me neither Geralt. Damn, this will surely complicate everything!” Recovered, she stood up straight and looked at her friend. “I will not stay here and I haven't got the strength to teleport you two again, so...”  
“Hate portals anyway. We'll be safe.” The witcher took a step towards her to give her an embrace and she happily did the same.  
“I'll be seeing you around in time, Geralt?” She turned her back to conjugate the portal, leaving the witcher just enough time to respond.  
“Of course.” As the gantry manifested in swirling yellow in front of her, the sorceress looked at Geralt one more time. She smiled at him in appreciation and with that, took one step more, and was gone at that instant. As she vanished, so did her conjugation and the two men were left in the darkness of the forest.

“We should head back too. At least out of this forest.” Geralt noted after a few moments of silence.  
“Yes, let's.” The commander agreed. “Where are we anyway? Knocked me unconscious in Novigrad.”  
“West of some village... Arness? Something like that.”  
“Alness, understood. So we need to go south.” Geralt did know that, but Vernon's lecture wasn't his concern. As they began to march south, he had only one:  
“If I had known earlier you were held prisoner...” The witcher paused. He frankly didn't know how to continue. Simply because he really didn't know what he would've done. He looked at the commander, who didn't respond, but only shot him a glimpse of acknowledgement. He couldn't have been their prisoner for long – a few hours at most, but still.  
“How are you, Vernon?” He asked out plainly, hoping to get an honest answer.  
“How do you think I am?” He mumbled grimly. “Found out one of the biggest whoresons of the known realms has yet to be killed and on top of that I must awaken captured and at his mercy. A fucked-up day to say the least.” He shook his head and frowned. “At the very least I now know where to find them. Gotta plan an ambush.”  
“You think that's wise?” Geralt sighted. He should have counted on Vernons never-dying desire for blood.  
“I don't give a damn if it's wise or not!” Roche said aloud. The witcher didn't know if he was getting mad at him or just angry because he was thinking about the elves.  
“Didn't you say you quit hunting Scoia'tel?”  
“I'll gladly make an exception for Iorveth and his fucking right-hand man.”  
“This right-hand man-”  
“Viriath.” Roche growled as he basically spit out the name. The fact, that the Temerian called a Scoia'tel by name did mean something.  
“What did he do to you?” Geralt asked with honest concern. Roche's heart pounded faster out of rage, as Geralt assumed.  
“Something he'll regret very soon.”  
“Vernon-”  
“What's it to you anyway? Since when do you even give a damn?” The commander faced him and nearly shouted.  
“I just can't save your ass every fucking time you get yourself into trouble!” The witchter replied angrily. Either Roche was just a jerk that had never heard of 'gratitude' or the Temerian needed to unleash his wrath on someone right now. At any rate, Geralt was getting frustrated, moreso as Roche shouted back:  
“So why bloody did you? Why don't you mind your own fucking business next time and leave Iorveth to me?”  
“I swear to the gods Roche, one more word of that shit and I'll-” The commander stopped and stepped in front of Geralt.  
“Why? It's what you always do, so why change that now?” The witcher couldn't hear it anymore. Enough was enough and he didn't care that his friend was in a state of unreasonable anger. He clenched his right hand into a fist and slammed it into the commander's face. He saw him tumble – unsurprised, almost as if he knew he was provoking it – and shake his head to ease the pain.  
“That got you back to your senses?” The witcher asked, but was prevented from saying more as Roche instantaneously kicked the witcher's knee and made him lose his balance. The Blue Stripes commander used this opportunity to punch Geralt in the back of his head. Groaning, the witcher lost his balance, but managed to roll away a few feet. Standing up again, he saw the commander aiming to hit him again, but could block the blow in time and used Roche's velocity to sent him flying against a tree next to them.  
“It's not me you're so godsdamn angry with, am I right?” The witcher asked as Roche turned around to face him again.  
“I still wanna beat the crap out of you!” He said, calmly even, and rushed towards him. Wild, uncontrolled punches were only partly hitting Geralt as he could block or dodge most of them.  
“You and this bloody elf just made me remember what I don't want to be!” The witcher jumped back once, listening to the words the commander delivered.  
“I am not guilty for all of this, for how I was born!” Geralt was caught off-guard by this outburst of emotions right now. Roche was adressing a completely different issue. Something much more crucial. The commander landed a hit to his left shoulder but the witcher grabbed his arm and twisted it around, swirling the Temerian to the other side. Unforgiving, the commander launched himself back into his friend, punching him in the stomach.  
“I don't want to hurt you!” He shouted, hitting Geralt again, but significantly weaker. “I just...” He whispered and couldn't bring himself to another punch as realization hit him. He ceased the fight and all his anger vanished in a moment. “I really didn't want to hurt you...” Faintly, he sunk to his knees. After a second or so he raised his head to look at the witcher with an expression so full of inner misery, Geralt hadn't ever imagined to see on his face.  
“I tried to hate you so many times.” Geralt didn't really get it – hate him? Why? Did he miss something? On the other hand he was touched by Vernon's honesty and crouched to sit in front of him. He tried to look at the commander but Roche had closed his eyes and shutting his mouth tight, suppressing something. Geralt could hear his friend's heartbeat racing like crazy.  
“What did they do to you back then?” Roche sighted, troubled like never before. Geralt knew he was about to share something with him. To reveal a well-hidden secret. He had never before talked to Roche about what he feels. He had never even asked. The stone-cold commander always seemed emotionless. Unable to feel anything but hatred maybe. But this here – this was something else. He placed a hand on Vernon's shoulder and the commander inhaled through his nose and whispered.  
“This Viriath, he...” He stopped, opening his eyes to look at Geralt. They held eye-contact for quite a few moments as Roche seemed to think if he should confide in his friend or not. Finally the commander looked to the side while whispering even fainter: “he... he fucking raped me.”  
“Oh...” Geralt exclaimed, imagining how degrading that must have been. He didn't expect something like that to happen to Roche although it wasn't anything uncommon to happen to a prisoner. “I can see how that-”  
“It's... it's not that.” Roche began, looking down. “If it were nothing more I wouldn't really care.”  
“Then what is it?” The commander seemed to think for a moment and suddenly stood up, brushing Geralt's hand away.  
“Forget it. I've already said too much, I...” He turned his back on the witcher as he too stood up, confused. “We should leave. I don't like forests.” He took a few steps forward before Geralt reached him, grabbed his arms and forcefully slammed him against a tree. He turned Roche around, still pressing him violently against the hard wood.  
“There are some things you can't keep to yourself for forever, Vernon! I won't let you go like this, you hear me?” Facing him now, the commander tried to break free but Geralt had him in such a way, that escape was nearly impossible.  
“You can't intimidate me, witcher!” Judging from his heartbeat Geralt wasn't convinced. Roche was breathing heavily now, urging to break free. Geralt wouldn't let him.  
“I'm not even trying to. I just wanna know what made you so furious back then. Why do you want to hate me? Or are you just frustrated from what this Viriath did to you?”  
“I'm... I don't want to hate you...” The commander began to quiver suddenly and tried another half-hearted escape attempt. “Let me go for fuck's sake.” He tried to curse, but it didn't sound threatening at all. Geralt didn't loosen his grip though, not yet.  
“I will let you go if you really want it. But you clearly have to get something off your chest and I know if you just keep it to yourself it will break you one day.” With this he let go. He wouldn't be forcing some kind of confession out of Roche, he already felt bad for what he did. The commander kept shaking and his heart raced madly, but he didn't retreat. He kept staying where he was.  
“It's so easy for you to just say that..” He took a deep breath and looked at Geralt, his expression still quite insecure. “But damn, do you treat all of your friends like that?” He tried to smile to lift the mood but failed, continuing to shiver like a frightened animal. Geralt watched him, nearly heartbroken. This was a new side of the commander. Fragile, frightened and somehow desperate. If he wanted, he could force him now to reveal every secret he ever had, but that would be so wrong. He decided to go along with Roche's approach to light up the atmosphere.  
“Only my good ones. And how come you're asking me that what with that show you pulled off back then?”  
“Sorry I... I just lost it for a moment.” He intented a smile again and accomplished it this time. They continued their walk out of the forest, minds a little bit calmed. “And I didn't want to sound ungrateful. I appreciate what you did, I really do. I don't think anyone ever stood up for me like you did.”  
Geralt smiled at him and they walked in silence for a minute before the witcher adressed the topic at hand again.  
“So, there obviously is something I've been missing, right?” He would be damned if he wouldn't find out tonight. The commander stayed quiet and the witcher could basically hear him thinking about wether to tell or not.  
“Yes, there is.” He let out a faint suppressed laugh. “But our ways part here.” Geralt frowned but saw that Roche was right as they had reached the road and thus the forest's end.  
“Hm, fine. But you realize that I won't let this go that easily, right?” Geralt smirked reaching out a hand to Roche who took it to say farewell. He smiled at the witcher, looking a little sad.  
“I know.”

3

 _Be careful_ , Geralt had said, _don't let the elves take you again_. As they parted ways for their respective destinations, the sinking feeling inside Roche's stomach became even greater. It was over. Never would it be as before. How could he loose control that easily? To give in to his rage and his inner demons? On the other hand he was angry for not telling Geralt the whole truth. If that hadn't been the perfect moment, then none was.  
“Gods, I'm such a coward!” he said aloud as he was crossing a wheat field in the middle of nowhere.  
He couldn't hide forever, he knew that. Especially not if he wanted to maintain contact with his beloved witcher. _Next time... next time I'll tell him._  
“Don't be too harsh with yourself.” He suddenly heard a voice from the dark beside him. Instinctively he wanted to draw his sword, but remembered his was in elves' hands.  
“Show yourself!” He commanded into the shadows and was rewarded with a spark that lit a campfire on the ground in front of him. A man in his 40ies had sat down next to it and as the fire grew he held out his hands to warm them.  
“Aren't you a leery one.” He watched Roche with mesmerizing eyes. “Want to sit down? The night is cold and your way is still long.” The commander narrowed his eyes.  
“How to you know where I'm going?”  
“Ah.” The man smiled and shook his head. “Just a figure of speech. But I thought you might be tired. Or maybe just in the mood to share some tales with a fellow wanderer. If you prefer to be off on your way, I'll not keep you.”  
Roche thought about it and saw nothing wrong with the man's offer. He seemed harmless enough and if he'd try to rob him he'd find nothing of value anyway.  
“Offer gladly accepted, then.” He said as he sat down on a conveniently placed treestump on the opposing side of the fire. The man smiled invitingly, but Roche still found him suspicious in some way.  
“So, may I ask what's gnawing at your mind then?” He looked at the Temerian and immediately shrugged. “It is rather obvious. To be honest, it is the only reason I am here.” The flames flickered suddenly and Roche flinched instinctively.  
“Who are you?” He asked. Something about this man wasn't right. He knew about the commander, Roche could tell.  
“I am but a merchant.”  
“Don't see your wares.”  
“Why do you ask if you take no interest in them? I do know where your true desires lie.”  
“I doubt that.” Roche mumbled but shifted uncomfortably on his treestump. The former charming wanderer now looked a lot more threatening. He decided to go with it though, see what he had to offer. In the mental state he was in right now, he didn't care much anyway.  
“I will annul your doubts then.” The merchant smiled his smile again. “You seek what every man seeks. With a slight difference of course, but in the end it's the same. I don't judge you, you're merely the victim of a cagey society.”  
“I have no idea what you're talking about.” The commander defended himself but the merchant shook his head in amusement.  
“Cease the tough act, I am talking about a certain witcher, that you hold very dear. Which is rather ironic but ain't it so?” As Roche felt too paralyzed to answer, the man continued. “Something you'd better understand my friend: If you don't take the initiative you will forever lose him.”  
“That is easy to say!” Roche answered finally. No reason to play the unbeliever or the denier anymore. “I mean... I am hardly a sorceress.” He frowned as he heard the man snicker.  
“Let me put it like this: After a decade of youth you tend to be more... experimental. I know what I speak of. You face a much bigger problem though.” He leaned forward and seemed to look Roche straight through his soul. “A certain Yennefer.” As the commander nodded he continued. “Ah, you've heard of her. Of course you did.”  
The Temerian thought for a few seconds. This man knew everything. Could he... could he be useful too?  
“Is there any way you could tell me if it's worth it if I keep trying?”  
“To be precise: You wonder how your chances are. Let me put it like this: If nothing comes between these two...” He raised his hands a little and shook his head as if to say sorry. Roche nodded, having understood. Somehow he didn't doubt the man was telling the truth.  
“Doesn't really surprise me.”  
“Of course something __ **could** happen. Something to end their love.” Roche frowned. Was the man proposing to...  
“That wouldn't seem like the right way to do it.”  
“Certainly not.” The merchant smirked. “Would be in neither of our powers to accomplish it anyway now, would it?” He looked at Roche challengingly, winked at him and stood up. “I will better get moving. So much to do, so few time. Our paths may yet cross again one day, soldier.” As Roche too stood up, wondering what the exact purpose of that conversation had been, he wanted to at least bid the stranger good-bye. As he looked again though, he had vanished into thin air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got back to writing finally! Yay! I just hope my life stays nice and quiet so I can write more. I've got so many ideas for this fic that I just want to make reality :-)
> 
> And if you've got ideas, let me know!


	9. Escape the Pyre

1

Under the cover of night, Triss had assembled nearly all the mages at the meeting point in the cellar of the Kingfisher. Geralt would be here to help her escort them through the drowner-an-whatnot-infested sewers of Novigrad once he'd show up. They had agreed to meet in roughly an hour, leaving her time to gather her thoughts and count the refugees. Iorveth beside her looked stern. He had visited her last night, climbed up and through the window, however he'd accomplished that. Apologies and all and an offer of help she couldn't refuse. Not one word of what had happened in the forest, no accusations, not even questions. Just an offer to help and an apology.  
"Missed two." He suddenly whispered. Triss looked at him.  
"What?" She let her eyes wander around the cellar and saw what he meant.  
"Oh gosh... Anisse and Berthold." The unsure couple. They had waited until the last moment with their confirmation to join them.   
"Leave them. It isn't worth the risk." The elf murmured but didn't look her in the eyes because he knew how she would react. Not raising her voice, she protested.  
"We can't. I couldn't forgive myself if I just left them behind."  
"Maybe they just had a change of heart..."  
"Or maybe they have been spotted or betrayed. They might not be able to make it by themselves."  
"They are most certainly dead were that the case." Iorveth sighted. "But I see your point. After all, I came here to help you, didn't I? We'd better not waste more time."   
Triss nodded and went over to Sigi Reuben, who had financially helped her and, strangely enough, shared her cause. After she informed him that there would be delays, he cursed but accepted her decision.  
Iorveth was already leaving the cellar and the sorceress followed shortly after. As the strange couple left the Kingfisher via it's backdoor, unnoticed, Iorveth donned a hood and secured the alley. Hiding the fact that he was an elf – probably the most hated species in the city right now, was only possible at that time of night. It added greatly to his favour that he, like herself, risked his life for people he didn't really know.  
"The street is safe. Where do they live?"  
"Not far, in the Bits. Come on." The Bits – Novigrad's home to the poor and desperate was currently one of the safest places in the metropolis for the Temple guard had been ordered to guard Temple isle. As they went through the not-at-all-lit alleys, passing beggars and orphans asleep, they didn't even see a patrol.  
"You have been right, Iorveth." Triss said. "We actually have provided a distraction. No guards here." She could actually feel the elf's smirk as he replied:  
"Told you so, elaine daerienn." She loved it when he complimented her in the elder speech and he knew it. Bastard.   
"I thought we had left all of that behind us."   
"Well, what can I say? I am unpredictable." Triss rolled her eyes a little at his boyish comments. The worst part was that Iorveth's charme actually worked on her. It _still_ did even though they had broken up (had they actually been together before that?) and she had sworn to herself to leave the country but neither of them seemed to know what they wanted. Triss was confused and moreso with everything else happening around them.  
"Priorities first, I'd say. We're there." 

They entered the common house whose landlord Triss knew from hearing only - a drunkard who'd come to own his family's business and was about to drive it to ruin. Hence the sordid state of the apartments. The front door wasn't locked and slid open as Triss knocked. She looked at her elven companion and saw the same focused yet alarmed look on his face.   
"Someone broke in. Maybe recently." He whispered.  
"You don't think..."   
"Witch hunters? Unfortunatly I do."   
They quickly but calmy advanced, Iorveth being the leader now.

2

As the elf rapidly climbed the stairs to the top floor, being sure to make only the slightest of noises, he left the sorceress behind him. He would not disappoint her again even though he had already lost her in his eyes.   
He heard voices coming from above. A rough male one sounded content:  
"Good work. Now men – take him!"  
"Wait! I didn't do anything wrong!" He heard another, insecure voice answer.  
"Right. Hear that several times a day." The former mocked.  
"What... what about my reward?"   
"Reward? Ah right – got to go to headquarters for that."   
Iorveth finally revealed his presence by stepping up into the room, appearing on the stairs. Everyone looked in his direction and the Scoia'tel perceived the situation. Two witch hunters at the back of the room, Berthold and Anisse right next to him and another couple crying in a corner behind the witch hunters. He tossed the traitors, who had obviously sold Triss and the fellow mages to the fanatics, a menacing look and Berthold flinched. Triss arrived behind him, her hands ablaze.   
"Merigold!" The hoarse voice from before shouted and the witch hunter it belonged to drew his sword.   
Iorveth dodged to the left and stabbed the forward-rushing racist in the back of his neck. He turned around to deal with the other one, yet understood from the agonised screams that there was no need. Triss' flames had reduced him to ashes. The couple behind them – inhabitants of this house, Iorveth guessed – screamed and cried but stayed motionless in their corner. The elf turned around towards Triss who had begun to speak to the fellow mages. Or rather – lesser alchemists in that case.   
"Are you hurt? Can you walk?" She asked.  
"I'm... we're fine... We just..." Anisse mumbled, under shock. Iorveth approached Triss and grabbed her arm gently to demonstrate the direness of the situation.  
"Triss, we were exposed. We have to leave now."  
"I'm not abandoning them!" The redhead replied sternly.   
"We won't go with you, Merigold, I'm sorry." Berthold looked to the blood-stained floor. "The elf spoke truly, we were discovered and told them about your meeting place." Triss gasped, shocked.   
"We must go back, the others-"  
"Let's waste no time then." Iorveth mumbled, calmly. He was used to ambushes, betrayals and slaughterhouses. As he started heading down the stairs, hearing Triss' last attempt to convince the couple to join them anyways, he already pictured the pile of corpses of mages and alchemists in the basement. Not that he would be heartbroken over it, certainly not. Just a shame for Triss. It really meant a lot to her and he really wanted to see her happy one more time before she would leave forever. Seemed like the sorceress did in fact convince the two outlaws to join her after all, because he was hearing a couple of footsteps running down the steep stairs as he went through the door. Without waiting for any of them he ran through the alleys' shadows towards the Kingsfisher. 

The fighting noises could be heard from outside of the back door already as the elven leader reached his destination. He heard steel on steel and as he smashed open the door he saw a handful of guards fight none other than Geralt of fucking Rivia. He had no doubt that Triss had asked him for help, but he didn't think too much about it as, he too, drew his curved sword to fight back. As the first witch hunter fell to his blade he moved more into the room and was in Geralt's earshot as the witcher adressed him in full fight.   
"Surprised to see you here. Thought you and Triss were in the past." It didn't really sound like an accusation but then again, the witcher talked so monotonely, it could actually have been one.  
"Well, turns out you don't know her so well."   
He replied, striking down another opponent. Not much were left and Geralt had dealt with half of them anyway before Iorveth had even entered.   
"If you care for her like I do, you should let her go." The witcher replied, impaling the last of the intruders with his steel sword. He didn't sheathe it as he turned to face the elf and neither did the latter.   
"I have not forgotten whose side you were on that night in my camp, vatt'ghern." He narrowed his eyes and steadied his grip on his sword. "We may share a goal now, but don't think it cleans your slate."  
"I stand with my friends, Iorveth, and Triss is one of them too. You do remember whose side she was on, don't you?"  
Iorveth remembered all too well and frowned in anger at that. What did she think when she asked the two of them for help tonight?   
"We should put that aside for now." He managed to propose to the witcher and to his astoundance the White Wolf nodded.  
"Agreed." He mumbled without putting down his sword though. "I was too late for three of the guys down there. Came running as soon as I heard the screaming. Where were you? And where's Triss?"  
"I'm right here!" The female voice said as the back door opened again to make way for the Redhead and the traitorous couple. Iorveth quickly sheathed his blade and Geralt did the same. She knew what was going on though, Iorveth could tell from her expression. As she led Bertholt and Anisse through the room she cast an annoyed look at Geralt and Iorveth smirked a little at that.   
All five of them went down into the cellar, where a worried Dijkstra was waiting for them.  
"Holy shit, Merigold! Cutting it a little too close right there, didn't you?" He nodded at the witcher as he saw him. "Geralt. You three enough to clear out the sewers?"   
Iorveth frowned. There would be – what, a few drowners at best in the sewers and here they were a sorceress, a witcher and a Scoia'tel leader. Either there was something he hadn't been told or Dijkstra was really underestimating them.  
"Up for a motivational speech, Triss, or you wanna go right away?" The witcher asked her while placing a hand on Triss' shoulder. Iorveth saw her shake her head.   
"No time for that. More guards will follow surely and we have to hurry. Let's go Geralt." As the witcher opened the cellar gate that led straight into the sewers, Triss kept the elf from following him by placing a hand on his chest.   
"I just wanted to thank you, Iorveth. I wouldn't have been able to bring them all here or to save Bertholt and Anisse. You don't have to come, you know." He frowned, but smiled as he saw she was nervous.   
"You can't get rid of me now, elaine." He smiled and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead before following the witcher and mages.   
"Oh, please." He heard Dijkstra sigh from behind him, but ignored it. 

Upon reaching the witcher and thus the head of the group, Geralt greeted him with a nod. Iorveth relied upon the rational side of the White Wolf to see beyond their hostility. If there really were drowners down here, he wouldn't want to watch his back at all times. As they moved forward, way ahead of the group, Geralt said calmly:  
"Just out of curiosity: What do you think to gain from all this?" Iorveth looked at him for a moment before focusing on the tunnel network again.  
"Could ask you the same." This conversation would lead to nowhere, both knew that. Without replying any further they moved on while Iorveth used the silence to think. What actually did he thought to gain from all this? Perhaps some kind of absolution from Triss or a chance to redeem himself in her eyes. He wasn't even sure what he wanted. He knew though that he wanted her to be safe and happy.  
"I know you don't want to believe this, but I'm doing this for Triss." He whispered, looking over to the witcher again. Geralt raised his eyebrows.  
"Concerning what I know of you, that indeed is hard to believe." Suddenly the witcher stopped all movements and Iorveth did the same. He reckoned Geralt had heard something with those sharp senses of his. He saw the witcher point to the left, where there was a tunnel up ahead, and saw him hold up four fingers. Iorveth nodded and they both drew their blades. With incredible speed, both of them leaped into the left tunnel, where there were indeed four drowners, feasting on the corpse of some small animal. Probably a dog but Iorveth couldn't tell anymore since there was nearly nothing left except for some bones. Before the creatures knew what was happening, two of them were already dead and Iorveth didn't have much trouble dealing with the other one. As he sent his head flying, Geralt sent the last one flying against the wall with a witcher sign. As the drowner's neck broke, so did the witcher's silence.  
"You know she won't stay. For neither of us." Iorveth actually nodded as they headed out to the main tunnel again.  
"She has to do what she needs to do. I won't stop her."   
"But you would like to?" The witcher looked over to him and watched him. He needn't rely on his eyes to orientate himself, Iorveth knew that. He couldn't tell if the witcher approved or disapproved of how he felt for Triss but he never cared much about what people thought.  
"I want to help her." The witcher frowned but went back to patrolling the area.

They didn't encounter anything else down in the swamps and they finally reached the harbor. As they let the mages pass, they were rejoined by Triss who was staying behind to make sure no one followed them. She smiled at them and embraced first Geralt then Iorveth. "We did it, boys."  
"Finally! You bloody took long enough!" Were the greeting words of a grumpy Dijkstra. Iorveth figured he must've taken the common, much shorter route via the streets. Advantages of not being persecuted. Triss stepped forward.  
"Did you have time to look around? How's the ship?"  
"Creaky piece of junk." Dijkstra answered plainly. "Wood's rotting, sails're prone to rip like an old pair of knickers and-"  
"Will we make it to Kovir?" Was all that Triss was worried about.  
"Provided you don't run into any storms." The man shrugged, slightly unconvinced. Iorveth looked at Triss with some worry in his eyes. The other mages were already boarding the creaky ship.  
"I'll see that all is well onboard." The sorceress said and left to join the mages. As soon as she was out of earshot, Dijkstra once again had something to say in that sarcastic voice of his.  
"Need any help? Shall I play the violin for you, fetch some flowers or bonbons?"  
"What are you talking about?" Geralt asked but Dijkstra nodded at Iorveth.  
"Was actually talking to him." As the witcher blinked in confusion, the crime lord raised his voice a little in annoyance. "Come on, Geralt. It's my job to meddle in other people's lives but it's obvious anyway that those two have a thing going. So, elf, will you ask her to stay?" Before Iorveth had the chance to answer, the witcher did it for him.  
"Why do you even care?"  
"I adore love stories." Dijkstra said in the less adoring voice possible. "Even those that won't end happily ever after."  
At that moment Triss rejoined them.   
"We should leave now. Hunters could be here any minute. Dijkstra, I don't know how to-"  
"No time for courtesies, my dear. Get on board."   
"One last farewell." She said and faced Geralt. As she looked up into his eyes, Iorveth noticed the love that was still there. As he stood there at the end of the pier, Dijkstra joined him.   
"Don't let your confidence drop, doesn't suit that grisly face of yours." The elf crossed his arms and looked at them. He didn't know if he was still capable of loving like they did. It was kind of sad that he'll never would have something like those two. Deep down he was lonely.  
"So, will you ask her to stay or not?" He repeated his question from before. Iorveth sighted.  
"I won't."  
"You are an idiot, you know that? Look at that woman. Bloody hard to come by another as fine as her."  
"Who even are you?" Iorveth asked. The one thing he wasn't prepared for tonight were relationship advices from an unknown fat man.   
"Someone who obviously knows what's best for you, dolt."  
Iorveth saw Geralt and Triss embrace before parting and thought of just staying there, where he was. He couldn't convince her to stay, nor could he give her anything right now. As he raised a hand to wave Triss good-bye, Dijkstra pushed him forward.  
"What the hell?" He asked but as Geralt rejoined them the witcher gave the elf another push that made him almost fall.   
"Just go kiss her good-bye, you idiot." The witcher added in his gravely voice. The elf was a little unsure but he had the feeling that those two would drag him over to the sorceress if he wouldn't go himself.   
As he reached Triss he suddenly became kind of nervous without knowing why. The harbor was better lit than the alleys they had been sneaking through all night. The orange light from the lit streetfires made her red hair seem even more scarlett and fiery. She was very pretty and although he had noticed this many times afore, now he realized even more how much.   
"Seems this is farewell then." He said, a little sad. It was a shame to see her leave. Something she had sparkled deep down inside of him. If he weren't so focused on his Scoia'tel raids he could've spent more time with her. Gotten to know her better.   
"I'd like to think of it as a good-bye." She smiled and took his hand. Surprised, he looked at her and they held eye contact.   
"I'd be glad to see you from time to time." They both smiled and Iorveth continued. "If circumstances were different and the world not that hostile... Maybe this could all have worked out better."  
"I like to think so. I'll always look back to you with a smile, Iorveth." The way she looked at him right now was more than he deseved. Looking back to their time together the elf couldn't quite grasp that she decided to stay with him for all that time.   
"Listen, Triss..." Saying that out loud proved more difficult than thinking it. "I know I couldn't have given you what you wanted and I know things haven't been easy all the times. I don't want to keep you here. I just want you to know..." He paused there for an instant, seeing the change in Triss' expression. "... you are a great woman. A great person. Now go, before I keep talking here all night and the hunters are upon us." He smirked and she laughed happily and kissed him. Iorveth kissed her back and embraced her. He would feel lonely again without her. Shame he only now appreciated what she meant to him when she was already gone.   
As she broke off the kiss she smiled.  
"You are a good man Iorveth. I'll be seeing you around." She let go of him and went on to board the ship, waving him good-bye.  
"I certainly hope so, elaine." He whispered and smiled faintly as the ship took it's leave. She was gone.

3

Geralt was torn between feeling happy for Triss and what she had accomplished and feeling sad because she had left. Iorveth hadn't stayed. As soon as Triss had left he had made his leave without saying good-bye – Geralt couldn't blame him. He still didn't know what it was between the two but it must've been hard for the Scoia'tel too to see her leave.  
"You're an arse." He suddenly heard Dijkstra saying. He turned around, cut off from his thoughts.  
"What?"  
"An ass. An oaf. A twit. Didn't even try to stop her." Geralt had heard enough from him already.   
"You know I have my reasons." He said defending himself.  
"Yennefer's your reason, I know." Dijkstra sighted before turning around. "You should stay out of politics, Geralt. I know it, you know it, Triss knows it. Your other lover – not so much. She's cuddled up to Nilfgaard and you'll follow her. As always. And one day we might find ourselves at opposite sides of the barricades. Would be a damn shame..." Geralt crossed his arms and looked at Dijkstra. He might be right, unfortunately. The witcher hated Nilfgaard for everything they had done to Ciri and to him and Triss. But yes, Dijkstra was right. Maybe he would work with Nilfgaard because of Yennefer. And he would hate himself for it.  
"But that seems distant future to me." Dijkstra continued. "Right now we should talk about the more immediate." Scheming? Really now?  
"You sure this is the right time, Sigi? Triss has just-"  
"Spare me, Geralt, witchers are stripped of feelings. Not one emotion in that body of yours." Geralt narrowed his eyes. _Let him think what he wants to think, though,_ he thought to himself.  
"What would you say... how many mages have we saved today? All together."  
"Dunno, didn't count." The witcher replied honestly. "Thirty maybe, give or take a few. Why?" Dijkstra now, too, crossed his arms and hissed.  
"How many you'd say remain in the north? How many alchemists, herbalists, healers? Two thousand, three maybe?"  
"Doing a population count or what now? Get to the fucking point, Sigi." Geralt said, unimpressed by now.  
"In Novigrad they had us, we could save them. But what about those in Ban Ard, Gulet, Ard Carraigh... who'll save them? You know damn well that daft bastard Radovid won't rest until every last one of them is dead. Yennefer and Triss included."  
"As I said before: Your point being?" Geralt was getting annoyed by now, but that drastically changed with Reuben's next sentence.  
"I want you to help me kill Radovid."


	10. Random shoes

1

Novigrad – the free city.   
At least if you aren't a mage or anything similar. If it weren't for an anonymous herald bearing a pass for him, Geralt wouldn't have been allowed into the city. "Anonymous" in this case meant Sigi Reuben, obviously. It was him he was going to meet. Not in his bathhouse but in Novigrad's best and most expensive whorehouse, the Passiflora.   
The witcher couldn't believe he was really going. He didn't want to meddle in politics. Not more than he had to. And regicide – out of the question under normal circumstances. But circumstances weren't normal. If Radovid won the war, no witch, herbalist or alchemist would be save anymore. And that would only be the start, everyone knew that. Soon it would be nonhumans, than beggars than the poor or who knows who. Someone to use as a scapegoat. Anyways, the witcher had decided to at least listen to what Sigi had to say. If he'd be a part of whatever plan Sigi had sewn, that was still up for discussion.

The Passiflora was up ahead in the rich area of Novigrad. Right now perhaps the only ones not suffering horrible money losses because of the inferno at the church. Always a need for that particular business. St. Gregory was still in ruins but as he entered the Passiflora he could see the construction site. An important place like that would be fixed up in no time. Not like the raided houses of some of Novigrad's more unfortunate citizens of course.  
Even inside the whorehouse he could feel the overall hostile atmosphere that reigned in the city.  
"White Wolf, welcome to the Passiflora!" An elderly woman greeted him. Most likely the innkeeper. "Oh, no sign of recognition in your eyes." She said, a little dissappointed, catching Geralt off-guard.   
"Sorry, uh..." He commenced but the woman raised her hands slightly, laughing.  
"Don't fret. I'm sure I look quite different now than I when we last saw each other."  
"Which was...?" He hadn't the faintest idea who she was and actually he wasn't here to meet old acquaintances.   
"Oh, ages ago, you and master Dandelion appeared, two halflings in tow. What a smash they were, we recount that night to this day."  
"Yeah sorry, but I'm here to-"  
"Speak softly." She suddenly leaned towards him and whispered. "I know very well why you are here."  
Geralt followed her into another room at a corner of the Passiflora. There was virtually nobody here except for one sleepy-looking but beautiful prostitute, and the old lady activated a switch that made the entire wall in front of her move aside, revealing a set of stairs. Kind of risky, so far as Geralt was concerned.  
"Your friends await you." She said before taking her leave again. _'Friends'_ , huh? Plural.   
As he climbed the creaky stairs, he was greeted by a soldier on the way. One of Dijkstra's lackeys. Geralt heard a mumbled "Boss is waiting upstairs" and continued. The witcher didn't like the situation up until now. Unsafe location and probably some plotting partner of whom he didn't know. That plus his general dislike of politics.  
Alas, Sigi Reuben was waiting for him in the upper chamber. It was obviously meant to be a luxurious room for special customers. That, or it was made to look that way to provide cover and to serve as a room for people plotting assassinations. Neither seemed unrealistic.  
"Geralt. You're here. Good." Dijkstra said, still facing the window, with his hands crossed on his back.  
"Might've chosen a more secluded spot to plan an assassination." Dijkstra turned around and approached Geralt.   
"It's on everyone's mind, many'd like to do it, so there's nothing to fear. Besides, this venue's got a tradition in this domain. Falka planned her revolt here... by extension." He now stood in front of Geralt, finishing his last sentence with an extended gesture. Geralt frowned.  
"Comparing yourself to Falka? No one in Redania's annals got a bloodier reputation." And that meant a lot, concerning Radovid was Redanian. Dijkstra looked annoyed and gestured again as if to explain something to a child.  
"Her rebellion changed the course of history – that's what we have in common. In terms of blood, well, we only aim to shed Radovid's." Again with the 'we'. Reuben sat down on a canapé, the pain in his leg clearly visible.  
"I'm pleased you are willing to play a part in it. Wasn't sure you would show."  
"Me neither. But I thought about what you said the other day. That Triss and Yen are going to die..."  
"And you better believe it. Well, down to the matter at hand." Suddenly a door was opened downstairs and heavy steps were taken by someone approaching.  
"I believe you know my associate." Reuben began but was interrupted by a barky voice coming from downstairs.  
"It's getting riskier every fucking day to get here. I had to sneak into Novigrad through the bloody sewers because the fucking hunters are doing passage controls and would most certainly-" The familiar figure stopped his rant as he arrived upstairs and saw Geralt.   
"Recognize you? That's why you should keep a low profile always so you don't end up on arrest warrants all over the bloody city." Dijkstra continued the sentence for him. As Roche didn't immediately reply, the crime boss continued. "What's wrong, lost your voice?"  
"Didn't expect you here, Roche." Geralt began and the commander nodded. He pulled back his hood, allowing Geralt to see his face. He looked better than the other night in the elven forest. Still tired, but less shaken-up. Dijkstra frowned heavily as the commander answered.  
"I wasn't sure you'd come at all. Concerning what we're about to do here. Good to see you again though." Concerning what they were about to do here Geralt was even more surprised. Hasn't Henselt been enough for Roche?  
"Defended a king once. Ready to assassinate another?" Roche inhaled slowly and looked to the ground. "Not proud of it." He went over to the window and shook his head. "Yet I considered all options and found none better."  
"Cease the act, please. We all bloody well know regicide is nothing new for our dear commander isn't it?" Roche turned around, unsure of what to do.  
"How do you know?" Geralt asked and Roche looked down.   
"I've got many birds listening for rumors out there. If one is chirping, it means nothing. But if they fucking form an orchestra, it's bloody obvious it's not only rumors. Believe me, I'm not the only one who knows."  
"Well..." Roche commenced and shrugged. "Now that that's out of the bag, I might as well say that I enjoy Radovid's assassination a lot less. Anyway, I'm really glad you're with us, Geralt."  
Gerald nodded at him and Roche smiled. He felt kinda bad for just exposing one of his biggest-held secrets but there was no point in hiding anything from Reuben.   
"So, what do you need me for?" The witcher asked and Roche answered.  
"One of our co-conspirators ventured out to meet an informer. He's not returned yet the plan's sucess hinges on what he has found out. We've got to find him. And you're the best tracker around."   
"Tracker, huh? Really?" Geralt wasn't sure if he should be amused or offended to be seen as nothing more than a tracker. Roche shrugged, a bit embarrassed and Geralt noticed Dijkstra narrowing his eyes, but hadn't the slightest idea what was going on in that man's head so he continued.  
"Anything else you can tell me? Like where this associate was last seen maybe?"  
"An informer from the Redanian border post named Gregor reported to have seen him with his cobbler-wagon, because that's what he passes for as cover. Apparently he drove his wagon through but never returned." Dijkstra delivered the exposition and the witcher nodded.  
"Fine, I'll find your man. Border Post is as good a place to start as any." Roche was visibly relieved and smiled at the witcher.   
"Thank you Geralt. Try not to draw too much attention... if you can." He almost said it like a dry joke and Geralt had to smirk.   
"Yeah I know. Future of the north depends on me. I'll try not to fuck it up. See you around, Vernon."  
"You too, Geralt." Roche said gladly with another smile and Dijkstra suddenly had to chuckle. Also he had stopped his continued frown.   
"What's gotten into you, then?" Roche asked, him being the one frowning now. Reuben quickly changed into his usual grumpy mood and said:  
"Nothing important. But I just remembered the meeting I arranged for today with a new informer. It's at the Inn at the Crossroads in a few hours." Geralt raised his eyebrows at Roche and the Temerian shrugged.  
"And you want me there I assume?" Dijkstra nodded.   
"I presumed you two have a lot of catching-up to do and since it's the same direction-"  
"Awfully considerate of you." Geralt replied, quite suspicious. "I'll see you at the guard post then, Vernon. I've got a few things to take care of first in Novigrad." Roche nodded, himself having a pretty tight schedule. As Geralt was gone, Roche faced Dijkstra.  
"So what the hell was that? Who is this new informant anyway and why didn't you tell me before?"  
"Vernon, Vernon... Vernon..." Reuben said with a laugh while he stood up, hiding the pain in his leg while he moved it. Roche, too confused to say anything, stayed where he was while the taller man approached him. A big hand landed on his shoulder and Reuben looked at him.  
"You've either had the worst fucking bad luck from the start or you're just plain daft. I mean, really? You're, like, three times ripe for death penalty if they're mercyful." Roche frowned even more, not moving though.  
"What are you on to, Dijkstra?"  
"You can't tell me nobody's noticed."  
"The fuck are you talk-"  
"You hide it well, better than those damned mages who can do anycrap they please. I give you that. But nobody fools me. I'm used to see through people's actions, it's my bloody job." Roche moved one step back, freeing himself from Dijkstra's grip. He didn't reply, and was just watching the man in front of him.   
"In my experience, whenever something's off , I get that feeling in my guts... The feeling someone is hiding something. Wasn't sure at first, when you were just acting bloody strange. Sure, probably didn't expect Geralt to be here but I already felt my guts twitching. Later it began to be even more suspicious, with you being overly amiable. Whatever – might've been just friendy banter, what do I know. Except it wasn't."  
Roche suddenly knew where he would be going with this.  
"You don't know anything about me." He said defiantly but Dijkstra laughed out loud and stepped closer to the commander again.  
"Except that you're a bloody bent fairy and that you'd better be careful who you let it notice because people will probably hang you for it."   
"If that's some kind of threat, I'm warning you." Roche moved his hand to the hilt of his dagger. Nobody has ever known about this and he had never wanted someone like Dijkstra to find out. Not that it mattered a whole lot – being persecuted already – but this was a completely different affair. "Don't mess with me, Dijkstra." The man in front of him held up his hands as if to say 'not threatening you'.  
"What would I even threaten you for? Don't be an arse for no reason." Roche kept his hand on his dagger though, paranoid still. It wasn't actually scaring him that someone found out but, to his great surprise, extremely relieving. He guessed that's the reason he was able to stay relatively calm all the time. He looked at Dijkstra, who smirked now, not feeling threatened.  
"It's adorable, really. Never thought there was anymore to you than what meets the eye." _Adorable? Really, Dijkstra?_  
"I'm not going to listen to anymore of this." Roche said, stepping forward menacingly. "This conversation has never happened." Dijkstra, not moving shrugged and looked down on the Temerian.  
"Sure, have it your way. I got my answer anyhow." Roche sighted and passed by the crime boss towards the stairs. "Enjoy yourself on that little romantic trip with Geralt later!" Dijkstra added with a laugh and the commander looked at him, clearly pissed-off.  
"Is there even an informant or can I spare me the way?"   
"We both know you'll go no matter the answer." No point trying to argue with him, the commander realized. Without saying anything else he descended to the main hall of the etablissement, putting his hood back on while doing so. Fucking Dijkstra. Just what he needed right now. But yeah, unfortunately he was right about one thing: He would go, no matter the answer. 

2

They had met up at the guard post like they said they would and since The Inn at the Crossroads was on the way, they rode together awhile and talked. Geralt was keeping an eye out on the road to look for signs of the missing agent. He had been careful to not yet adress the topic that he wanted to adress the most: Roche's breakdown the other night. Instead they were spending their time with something Geralt had actually never done before.  
"One last time, just to see if you truly got it." The witcher said, looking at he commander. Roche made the gesture again they'd been practicing for the last few minutes. Not that it was complicated or anything, but one slight alteration might keep the sign from working.  
"Convinced now, witcher?" Roche asked shaking his head.   
"M-hm. You've got the easy part."  
"All right. So how will I get this "Quen" to work?"  
"You need a focused and relaxed mind for it." He wished he could explain it like Vesemir. Roche listened very carefully and Geralt was amazed at how his friend actually wanted to learn the witcher signs. "It doesn't function if your mind is clouded by other thoughts. It's really hard to explain. Try to be calm and while making the gesture think of everything that is 'protection'. That's more or less it. You need to figure it out by yourself in a way."  
Roche thus closed his eyes and the witcher could actually see him thinking. As he made the gesture though, nothing happened.   
"Don't worry. Only took me two months to get the hang of it." Roche looked at him and laughed sarcastically.  
"Yeah well, never imagined myself as a magic-wielder anyway."  
"That's the exact attitude that Ciri had." Geralt shook his head. "To this day she can't cast a single sign."  
"Talking of Ciri..." Roche commenced. "... how is your search coming along?" Geralt sighted and looked up. The sky had already taken on a dark orange colour, foreshadowing a clear starlit night's sky.   
"Not very quickly to say the least." He made a pause to think. He hadn't come any further since he had rescued Dandelion. High time to get to Skellige already. "No more clues in Velen. Ciri has been here but she isn't anymore. That's why I'll be taking my leave tomorrow."  
Roche looked actually kind of sad as he heard that.   
"I hope you find her. I really do. Must be hard not knowing where your daughter is."   
"I can't even start to say how much I worry about her."  
"I get you." Roche said sincerely. He was thinking of Ves, Geralt could imagine. The commander and Ves were like big brother and little sister and since everything that happened after Flotsam, one couldn't shake off the impression that Roche was constantly protecting her by keeping her out of every dangerous situation. In that, Roche and him were similar.  
"The worst thing is that I can't do shit about it now." The witcher mumbled and Roche nodded.   
"Well..." he began. "You could get drunk." Geralt looked at him and shrugged.  
"I didn't actually think of that but oh hell, why not? Haven't got anything to do until tomorrow evening anyway. Let's find your stupid comrade and drink ourselves under the table. Might us both do good."  
"If we find him, that is." Roche said with a frown of concern.  
"Hey, don't you trust the 'best tracker around'? You know, the one you hired for this exact job?" Geralt smirked. He had actually noticed fresh wagon tracks on the road a while ago and was following them. He'd bet a round that he had a good lead. Roche nodded with an embarrassed smile.  
"I'll never get to hear the end of that, will I?"  
"No."  
"You actually are the best tracker around. And you're someone I wanted on this mission." Geralt raised his eyebrows.  
"'This mission', huh? I still can't believe we're going to kill another king. We can form a club with Letho for double regicides." Roche sighted and looked at the witcher.  
"As I said, I'm not proud of it. But I would rather die than see Radovid sit on Vizima's throne." Geralt reminded himself not to let the topic drift into politics. Roche could go on for hours talking about politics and getting depressed and angry in the process. He knew of course that it was an important matter. Even more for Roche than for him.  
"I don't want to see him sit on any throne to be honest. Even if it were only because of his purging of witches." Roche nodded, more serious now.  
"Saw one of the spectacles the day the temple burned. A witch and her servant were burned alive at the stake."  
"They burned the servant too?" Geralt frowned. "Didn't know they went after them too."  
"Some bystander said the servant girl was her concubine. Reckon they just figured to make a pair of pyres while they were at it." The commander seemed actually offended. Geralt hadn't known that something like that would get to him, being a known elf-hater and all.  
"It's like I thought." He said, remebering his conversation with Dijkstra on the Novigrad pier. "Radovid claims he only goes after mages but he'll not stop there. They'll purge everyone that isn't 'normal'."  
"Meaning we have to stop him if only for self-preservation." Roche scoffed in bitterness.   
"We do?" Geralt asked him confused. "I'm a witcher, I get that. But you?" Roche froze for a moment and Geralt heard the man's heart stop for a moment.  
"I am already a wanted man. That's what I meant." The commander said hastily and Geralt shrugged in confusion. He was acting so strange lately and it was showing more and more.   
"Vernon, I'm gonna make you so drunk later, so that you won't be capable of weaseling yourself out of it like you did just now."  
"Let's see who drinks whom under the table first, witcher." Roche replied, though his face showed signs of insecurity. Geralt grinned even more at that.  
"Concerning my superiour metabolism, I doubt you'll win the challenge." Seeing the commander's worried expression, the witcher actually felt sorry for him. At the same time it amused him though. He was lucky Roche was in a better mood than back in Iorveth's forest. At least today that conversation wouldn't end in a fight... he hoped.  
"What have I gotten myself into?" The Temerian shook his head, when his horse suddenly acted uneasy.  
"To be honest, you proposed the drinks-" Roach, too, suddenly freaked out. Geralt concentrated his witcher senses on the environment and heard it in the distance:  
"Wolves. No way we'll avoid them." Didn't matter anyway, since he noticed the wagon's tracks trail off to the right, getting nearer to the forest's edge. There was a shoe right next to them that had apparently fallen out of the wagon. Had the driver been in a hurry? The wolves would be getting at them in give or take a minute and the horses became unsteady now, urging to gallop.   
"Let's go, Roach!" He commanded his mare, fulfilling her wish to run.   
"You got a lead?" The temerian commander asked, while letting his own horse accelerate too.   
"Right in front of us, I do." The witcher pointed to further down the road. He saw the cart in a few hundred meters at the roadside. They were nearly at the forest's end with a nice view to farming territory ahead. The wolves were getting closer.   
"Seems to be a cobbler's cart all right." Roche confirmed with a smile and commanded his horse to stop as they arrived. Nervously both their mounts came to a stand-still and Geralt and Roche faced the wagon as they dismounted. They didn't really worry about the wolves. They had been up against betters.  
"Hm... doesn't look damaged. Strange." The witcher noticed. Although some of the merchant's ware was lying on the ground, this was probably due to the sudden halt the cart had endured. He heard the wolves approaching but was more interested in marks on the earthy forest ground next to the vehicle. He crouched to take a closer look at what the traces had to tell him.   
"Signs of a scuffle. Somebody was knocked out, got dragged off."   
"Draw your sword, witcher, if you don't want to share this very fate." Roche commanded, the wolves had arrived. He faced the first grey forest beast that lurked in front of him. As it lunged forward, all teeth and claws, aiming at the Temerian's throat, Roche did the same and at the last second held up his sword like a lance towards the animal. The wolf's cry drew the rest of the pack in quickly and the commander turned around, wiping the beast's blood off his face. Geralt, too, drew his sword and as two of the beasts surrounded him, quickly formed the Quen gesture.   
"So much easier fighting like that." He said in an extra provoking tone and Roche rolled his eyes. He wouldn't actually try to use some witcher magic in the middle of a fight, not when it never would even work for him. They were encircled by the remaining five carnivores and almost simultainiously the beasts attacked. Roche slashed his steel across one wolf's head and dodged the second one that was incoming. He heard the witcher's sign explode in a yellow flash and used the opportunity to strike down one of the startled foes. Quickly he turned around again as something launched itself straight against him. Thanks to increadible reflexes he managed to hold up his blade with both hands and watched as the wolf bit onto steel instead of his throat. Not dead, it immediately backed off with a whimper, the pain obvious in it's face. Roche saw it retreat, blood streaming out of it's mouth like a fountain. He took a deep breath and turned to the equally victorious witcher.   
"Let's see where our informant was dragged off to?" He asked and Geralt nodded. "I hope he's still alive."   
"Don't see any blood." The witcher encouraged him, while following the drag-trail.   
"Doesn't mean he's alive though." Roche mumbled. If their man was dead... the mission would be really compromised to say the least.  
"Try the sign again." Geralt changed the subject.   
"Fine. Can't hurt." The commander replied and tried to clear his head like the witcher had told him to earlier. As he concentrated on it, he didn't realize he had come to a stop.  
"There are shoes lying around the tracks everywhere. It's like someone collected a bunch of them and tossed them along the way. Doesn't make much sense to me."   
He saw the commander form the sign but nothing happened.   
"Sorry, maybe I should let you concentrate next time." He said but Roche shrugged.  
"Let's just find our man and focus on teaching me magic later." 

They followed the trail through half of the forest, finding shoes everywhere. As they arrived at the foot of a hill, Geralt stopped. No witcher senses required, there was a sound coming from above where the street was.   
"Man shoeses shininess..."   
"Sounds like a troll." Roche whispered, remembering their encounter in Vergen.  
"What's he doing there?" Geralt wondered and walked towards him. Trolls were unintelligent, giant beasts and as they approached him, he turned out to be a rock troll. The creature was looking down to a pile of shoes on the ground and scratched his chin.   
"Found our culprit." Roche whispered and wanted to grab his sword. Geralt stopped him though.  
"Rock trolls are a pain in the ass to fight. Strong punches and thick skin. I'd prefer a peaceful solution." The troll suddenly turned around with a confused look in his face. Seems he had heard them.  
"Greetings." The witcher said politely.  
"Away go witchy ands friendsesgo. Shoeses pick me."  
"I can see that." He crossed his arms. "I just wondered how theses shoeses wound up here."   
"Here shoeses grows. Like to mushroo!" Geralt frowned and Roche had to smirk.  
"Hm. Seems like the troll just outmocked you." The commander took a step forward and pointed at the shoes.  
"Stop lying, creature! Have you seen the owner of those shoes?" The troll looked at him, towering in all his stonen immensity and looked sadly to the ground, and shook his head.  
"Rogg no tells. Or angergets Ogg and Pogg."  
"Ogg and Pogg – they are your friends?" Geralt asked, crouching down to appear less scary.  
"Human finder on bigshoescart Ogg-Pogg. Shoeses biglike so!" He held up his giant arms to form a gesture obviously meaning "big".  
"Where did they take this human?" The witcher asked calmly, signaling Roche not to interrupt.  
"Mans cavetotake. Thereover. Mans shoesesmake. For Ogg, Pogg, Rogg. Biglords trollers be, like humanses when shoeses have Ogg, Pogg, Rogg."  
Geralt nodded and looked up to Roche who shrugged.  
"Let's go to the cave, then." The commander said and Geralt nodded. He was surprised that the troll did actually let them go to their lair like nothing had happened.   
"Doesn't make any fucking sense to me that trolls would want shoes."  
"They have strange ideas sometimes." Geralt agreed. "But many are essentially harmless. We've got lucky there. Look, it's just here." He said as they entered the cave.

"You don't fucking 'hitmake'! Yell at 'em, that's good enough!" They heard a familiar voice rant inside the cave.   
"Your partner is Thaler?" Geralt looked at Roche as they cautiously advanced.  
"A true Temerian by heart." Roche nodded.  
"You walk up to the bloke, bare your teeth and scream: 'Fuck off you miserable cunt!', understand?"   
"Uh..." Came a troll's answer. By the sound of it, Thaler was in control here. The trolls turned around as the witcher and the Temerian stepped into sight.   
"Geralt?" Thaler exclaimed, smiling in that pissed-off way of his. He wasn't actually pissed-off to see them, that was just his regular mood. "My my my, been bloody ages. And Roche. Didn't thought you'd come personally."  
"This who?!" One troll shouted, looking angry. He was standing in front of a cooking pot together with the other troll. Not sure what they were cooking there but it didn't smell human, Geralt reckoned.  
"Relax, Ogg. These buggers're old friends of mine." Thaler said, raising his arms a little and moving past the trolls towards the witcher. "Well, gentletrolls. High time I traveled on. You just, uh, practice what I taught you. Give you a fuckin' exam next time I come through."   
Before he could go any further though, Ogg held up one big arm in front of him. "Tala gono. Tala sit, sit arsedown. Tala sockcuck shoeses make!" Thaler stopped and raised his hands a bit while he shrugged.  
"Well, at least you had a linguistic impact here." Roche said. "So much for your peaceful solution, Geralt."  
"Don't attack, I might have an idea." He took one step forward and spoke to the troll. "Look, we only need him for a minute."   
"Gonna fetch some leather for your shoes." Thaler continued, catching the witcher's lead. As the trolls looked at each other, understanding nothing, the shoemaker continued. "Look at your feet – they're fucking mammoth! Need a damn bale o'leather to make shoes for all of you. Understand?"   
"Hmm..." The trolls seemed to think about it.  
"Me and Geralt and Roche, we'll get some cocksuckin' leather. Then I'll come back and make your blasted shoes."   
"Hmm..." The trolls hadn't changed at all, nobody was sure they had even listened.  
"This isn't taking us anywhere." Roche mumbled. Geralt thought of making him wait outside before he screwed up the situation with his aggressive attitude but he didn't have to.  
"Mans go. But backcome Tala must." Thaler smiled sarcastically and joined his partners.   
"Knew you buggers were good mates. Sit tight, be back in a bit." He lied to their faces and they all left the cave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought Dijkstra of all people would really ship the two. I guess he'd ship Geralt with everyone who isn't Yennefer.  
> Also, if some of you wonder - I think having a bisexual girlfriend once makes him kinda open-minded. Or maybe he just doesn't give a damn.  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it :-)


	11. One enchanted Evening

1

They had more or less escorted Thaler to the Inn at the Crossroads. He would use it as a place to stay for a few days before returning to Novigrad.   
"Because against all odds it seems that living with ploughing trolls for a frickin' eternity, doin' nothin' but watching them fucking cook their arselicking soup – it sure tasted like arse all right – cuts you off from your godsdamn work!" He rambled while finishing his fourth tankart of beer. They were in a good mood all right, and Geralt didn't even mind listening to Temerian patriotism talk anymore.  
"Speaking of work, I'll see that I'll meet that informer Dijkstra sent me here for." Roche said and looked around. His eyes wandered across the well-filled tavern and stopped to look at a hooded man sitting alone at the counter.   
"Should be him. It's the only one who's neither drunk nor Redanian." The commander, too, finished his beer and wanted to stand up.  
"You keep your arse where it is and let me handle this." Thaler said, leaving his seat. "I am itching to conspire again. Couldn't bloody do it for motherfucking weeks because of the bloody trolls. Can't be pissed off enough about that."  
"Yeah, don't need to remind us, Thaler." Geralt said. "Join us again later?"   
"Nah." The spy said, while stretching his arms in front of him. "Got me enough pissing beer for tonight. As soon as this cocksuckin' informer informs me all right, I'll get my old contacts working again. Probably assume I'm dead an' rotten since they hadn't a word from me. Fuckin' trolls!"  
"Right then. See you in the morning." The witcher nodded at him and Thaler wandered off, hollering something incromprehensible as farewell words. Geralt was pretty sure he'd heard a few 'fucks' in there.   
"Up for more beer?" Geralt asked Roche and the commander nodded. The witcher raised a hand to get the bartender's attention. He was just dying to ask Roche about what he had meant in Iorveth's camp. That he had often wanted to hate the witcher and that he suffered for something that wasn't his fault. Geralt knew he was close to solving Roche's riddle, he just needed the final piece.  
The innkeep approached them and Geralt ordered two more mugs of Redanian Lager and a bottle of Vodka. He was planning on keeping his earlier promise to Roche. To make him so drunk he wouldn't be able to hide the last puzzle piece from him. He raised his mug and saluted Roche with a grin, already brewing up theories about the Temerian's mystery. The latter frowned in a funny way but equally raised his beverage.  
"Soo...." The witcher commenced, facing the commander. Roche seemed to know what Geralt wanted to ask as his heartbeat increased again audibly. _It's win him or lose him,_ the witcher thought. Even though they were finally alone, he shouldn't rush it.  
"Don't you get tired of all this conspiring?" He asked, avoiding the important subject for now. After all, they had all night.   
"It's what I do for a living." The commander shrugged, not putting down the beer. "But yes... I tire of it. And I don't approve of what's necessary to save Temeria." The tavern door opened and a happy, lightly drunken couple entered the inn, making something of a ruckus. Roche turned around on his bench for a second but found it uninteresting. After they both had taken another sip, Roche sighted.  
"The truth is... when we hunted down Letho for what he had done... well, turns out I'm his equal."  
"We all make strange choices sometimes. I'm no innocent either." Geralt added. "You have to do what you think is best and don't look back at your choice."  
"Pretty sad but I'll drink to that." They both continued their beers and Geralt saw that three musicians were preparing their instruments next to the counter in front of the fireplace. Out of Novigrad this was kind of a rarity. He leaned against the wall, being able to watch the entertainment.   
"At least we'll hear some music to lighten your sad mood." He said and Roche turned around again. Suddenly he stood up and joined Geralt on his bench, bringing his beer with him.  
"Makes me nervous always having to look behind me. Prefer to have the wall in my back."  
"Just admit you love music." Geralt beside him grinned. "And also I killed a noonwraith around here once. Wall wouldn't save you."  
"I hate you." Roche smirked and drank more. Geralt watched the musicians and waited until their first subtle melodies started before looking at Roche again.   
"If you save Temeria, where will you go?" The music took on a more taverny feel and Roche didn't look at the witcher at first as he answered.  
"I haven't even thought about it. I will certainly not serve some aristocrats posing as wannabe kings. I don't think I'll even stay. I couldn't..." He drank the rest of his beer and loudly placed the mug back on the wooden table. They both listened to the music but Geralt was irritated.  
"I was expecting you'd be serving queen Anais, actually. Noblemen wouldn't be a problem, would they?" He looked at Roche again, who had closed his eyes.   
"Oh, bloody hell, I guess it doesn't matter if I tell you, you're part of the conspiracy anyway..." The witcher was all ears.   
"Tell me what, exactly?"  
"There has been struck a deal. We dispose of Radovid and in exchange..." He took a deep breath and shook his head, as if he couldn't believe what he was about to say. "... We surrender the entire North. Temeria will keep it's borders, it's laws, whereas the rest will become part of the empire. A second Toussaint if you will. No king, no army. But at least Temeria will stay Temeria."  
"Vernon... you and Nilfgaard?" Geralt was shocked. He didn't care about borders or emperors, but Roche was and has always been a despiser of Nilfgaard.  
"I wish I didn't have to take that choice, but it's the only way. I'd do anything for a free Temeria even if it means I have to surrender to Nilfgaard."  
"Temeria wouldn't actually be 'free'. You'd be Nilfgaard's vassal."  
"I know." He sighted. "Even the sound of that is sickening. You want some of that vodka?"  
"Yes, sure." Geralt nodded, still letting the news sink in. As he watched his friend pour the alcohol into the pint glasses, he thought about Roche's choice. "I get it, though." He said.  
"Do you now?" Roche laughed sarcastically, handing the witcher his drink.  
"If Nilfgaard wins the war Temeria becomes a part of the empire, loosing everything it has. If Radovid wins... well, you'll have to live under his mad regime. It wasn't a real choice, Vernon."   
"I tell myself that every morning but still... I don't know if it was the right choice. I just wish Foltest was still alive. I have no fucking clue what to do." He shook his head and watched the musicians again. A crowd had formed around them and some of the women were dancing to their fast tune. The atmosphere was great in here, Roche was immune to the infection though. Geralt didn't blame him.  
"Let's drink to Foltest then." He raised his pint and Roche did alike.  
"To Foltest." They both shuddered a bit as the alcohol ran down their throats, leaving a strong taste in their mouths.  
"He would be proud of you, I reckon. You chose the good of Temeria's people over your own pride." Geralt smiled at him and poured some more. Roche leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes.  
"I hope so."  
"Whenever you need help you can count on me. That's what friends are for." He gave the Temerian a nudge with his elbow and handed him the refilled pint of vodka.  
"I appreciate it. That is, if you can spare any time. You have equally important things to do." Geralt nodded. He wasn't one step closer to Ciri. Just as clueless as at the very beginning. "But I can help you out as well, Geralt. Whenever you need me." The Temerian finally smiled again and raised his pint. They weren't taking their time now with getting drunk, the witcher noticed and smiled too.  
"To friendship." He awaited an answer from Roche, but he just downed the liquor without any words. He smiled though and that was what mattered. Geralt didn't even realize when he had begun to care that much for the commander. They had become friends during their time in Vergen and Loc Muinne, but more like friends forged in fire. Right now though, seeing the Temerian smile, his sad mood gone, made the witcher happy. Maybe it was because Roche was beginning to trust him, showing his true colours. Could be that it was all because of the alcohol though, as the vodka mixed with the five beers from before started to show it's effects. That could be it, the witcher nodded as if to confirm that to himself.  
"I need to piss." He said all of a sudden and stood up. He wasn't drunk yet and had perfect vision, though walking felt funny. He smiled. Him being in that state meant most certainly that Roche was worse. 

As he returned to the tavern he saw the commander standing outside as well, leaning against the wooden wall next to a window, the bottle of vodka in his hand. His head was tilted upwards, resting against the wood behind him. As Geralt approached him, the commander didn't notice. Jup, definitely drunk or near that state at least, if he let his guard down like this. His sober paranoia would forbid him to let someone sneak up on him and surprise him by hitting him lightly on the shoulder in jest. Roche quickly opened his eyes and looked at Geralt, shaking his head.  
"Letting your guard down?" Geralt grinned and Roche smiled kind of desperately.  
"You are really going through with this, aren't you? It's impossible not to notice." He took a tiny sip from the bottle and Geralt raised his eyebrows at the amount of liquor that was missing. He crossed his arms.  
"And I was being so subtle."  
"The hell you were." He laughed calmly. "It's been a while since I've gotten myself drunk, you know. I despise losing control. Actually, I should really just go. Because I can already imagine how this whole thing will end and I don't want ano-"  
"I dare you." Geralt interrupted by placing an arm around Roche and snatching the bottle out of his hand. He wouldn't be going anywhere right now. Not when his plan was working so well. The Temerian had become really talkative and admitted he was losing control. "I swear, Vernon, if you bail out now, I'll burn that hat of yours."  
"That's going too far, witcher!" Roche said, actually offended. He really loved that hat, although he had now nearly no opportunity to wear it in public, the poor guy. He took the bottle again and took another small sip, not even struggling out of Geralt's grip either.   
"Yeah, that's it. Just keep drinking." Geralt added, shaking the Temerian a little in his embrace, grinning.  
"You're a real asshole." Roche rolled his eyes but had to laugh and took another sip from the vodka.  
The witcher steadied his grip around the commander's shoulders and lead him back into the tavern. The Temerian didn't object. Whatever it was he didn't want to tell couldn't be that bad, Geralt thought. Whatever was scaring the commander that much was probably only his own paranoia of spelling secrets out loud. They fought their way through a dancing crowd and Roche bumped into more than one of the people, undermining his alcohol-influenced state.   
As they reached their previous seats, the bench in the corner, Geralt finally let go of the commander and they sat down. He had ordered a second bottle of vodka on the way, that the innkeep was delivering right then. Roche raised his eyebrows.  
"Am I not drunk enough for you yet?" He asked and the witcher shook his head.  
"If you're aware that you're drunk, then no, not yet." He took the second bottle, while promising the innkeep to pay up in the morning, and added with a smirk: "Besides, this one is for me." He opened the bottle and took a few sips.  
"I have an idea, actually." He said, placing the liquor back on the table. "How about we play a little game?"  
"A game?" The commander asked, not liking the idea it appeared. Geralt should have figured as much. Roche never had seemed the kind of man to indulge in friendly activities.  
"I'll make a guess about your big secret. If I'm wrong I'll drink and if I'm right, you'll drink. How about it?" Normally the witcher himself wasn't into games either. But with Roche he felt like with Lambert, Eskel, Dandelion or Triss: He could be having a good time doing anything. Once again he was astounded about how comfortable he felt with the Temerian all of a sudden. More astounded he was as said Temerian nodded and shrugged. They possibly were feeling the same way. Although they had many differences, they pretty much saw eye to eye. At least that was what Geralt was thinking.  
"I don't seem to have any choice nontheless."   
"True enough, you have none." He grinned, thinking about what to ask first. He looked at Roche besides him and the latter seemed to unknowingly shake a bit to the music while not letting his eyes off the witcher.  
"Want to dance?" He asked ironically and the Temerian stopped dead in his tracks and shook his head a little embarrassed. It was obvious that he hadn't even noticed he was doing it.   
"No, thank you. Ask me again after I finish the bottle." He quickly leaned against the wall behind him, trying to suppress a smile and to calm down his heartbeat. Geralt raised his eyebrows because this could have easily been an answer and reaction coming from Triss when she was playing hard-to-get again. "Anyway, is this what passes as a first question? If so, drink." The commander reminded snarkily.  
"Wasn't my intent." Geralt said, surprised, but found it only fair to drink anyway. "Guess I'll have to phrase my words more carefully then."  
"Precisely. But it's my turn first." Roche declared, turning to face Geralt, crossing his arms. The witcher raised his eyebrows.  
"Oh, didn't know you were into this."   
"Why not? There's a lot of things I don't know about you."  
"Have I awoken your interrogater's spirit again?" Geralt laughed, approving of Roche's desire to participate. Would make the game a lot more interesting.  
"You just might have." He tried to say in a serious voice and narrowed his eyes. "So, while you were at Foltest's court I studied your files. All I could find about you. First reports of a famous witcher named Geralt of Rivia date back to about 1230. During Thyssen's rise."  
"Takes some time for a monster slayer to gain fame."  
"That much I imagined. The thing is, I was _born_ around then. If you were already a seasoned witcher then that makes you at least..." He halted, and Geralt grinned.  
"You're not going to ask a man about his age, are you?" Roche smiled and shrugged.  
"I've heard about you witchers having a prolonged lifespan. You're... truly old, aren't you?"   
"That was a very charming way to put it!" Geralt shook his head. Suddenly he changed his voice like Lambert used to do it all the time, delivering an amateur imitation of Vesemir. "I could be your grandfather, young Temerian. Now let's drink." He raised his bottle and smiled at Roche's expression. After they both had drank a sip, Roche put the bottle down.  
"Why did I drink? Wasn't I right?"   
"You drank for being highly tactless." The witcher faked to be pouting, which looked really funny and made Roche chuckle. He quickly recovered though, proving that even when drunk, he was a dedicated professional. "Well, Roche, my turn." He said, having a vengeful, elated look in his cat eyes. "Are you secretly an elf? I bet you are!"  
"What? Noooo!" Roche said in a slightly higher pitched voice and he couldn't react as Geralt quickly reached out to shove the commander's hood aside to look at his ears.   
"Damn, you're right." The witcher laughed. He drank while watching the commander blush in embarassment and putting his hood back on.  
"Of course I'm not an elf! What even gave you that idea?"  
"Would have been priceless were it so."   
"Didn't you ever notice before?" Roche asked, a little concerned but still with that look from before in his eyes, that kept Geralt from stopping to laugh. That, and the liqour, which started to show on the witcher too.   
"'Course I noticed, just wanted to see your reaction."   
"You are the most terrible interrogator that I've ever had the displeasure to meet." Roche laughed reticently but content and Geralt naturally had to consent.  
The music had slowly taken on a calmer and more peaceful tone and most of the folk were sitting down again. The commander's smile didn't fade and he relaxed as he leaned against the wall and looked at Geralt.   
"Did you ever think of being something else than a witcher?"  
"Many a times, sure." He answered and fixed his eyes on Roche's. "Thought of retiring, did it once, but it didn't go so well. What would you have me do anyway if not killing monsters?"   
"Build a house, have a family, maybe. You would fare well as a landlord, I imagine." The commander closed his eyes for a few moments, and nodded. Geralt, too, liked the idea. He had tired of this life he lead since some time now. He liked being a witcher, the adrenaline rushes and the fact that he was making a difference, but he longed for some quiet, a place to come home to. He had Kaer Morhen but it was evidently not what it once used to be.  
"Landlord sounds just fine to me. Settling down with Yennefer might just be what I need. And I can always get back to monster slaying as soon as we don't endure more of it."  
"Come again? What did you mean by that?"  
"Life with Yen isn't always... easy." Geralt sighted, remembering their peaceful time together just before she had been kidnapped by the Wild Hunt. It _had been_ peaceful and heaven on earth. Mostly. Though nearly every day they used to fight over something non-dramatic. Such was life with his beloved. "From time to time we need a little time-out from one another." He shrugged, not needing to explain more as Vernon seemed to get it.  
"Nothing's ever perfect I reckon." He crossed his arms, understanding, and Geralt took another sip of vodka.   
"It gets close most of the time luckily." He smiled, slurring a little and Roche could tell he was being honest. He really was deeply in love with Yennefer. "Oh, thanks for bringing it up because I always wondered, Vernon: Were you ever in love with anyone?"   
The Temerian's heart started to race again and Roche didn't answer at first.  
"Oh, am I on the right track?" Geralt asked a little excited. As Roche looked at him a little confused he added. "Your accelerated heartbeat kind of gives it away again."  
"You can hear that?" The Temerian asked with slight concern.   
"Witcher senses. I can pick up more than you know. How is that for worst interrogator?" He laughed. "So, were you ever in love?"  
"I was... Twice actually." The Temerian mumbled and quickly drank something. Oh, Geralt _so_ was on the right track.  
"Never would have thought it. You always come across as that genuinely professional, heartless kind of man."  
"Of course I have feelings, I just..." He was trying not to look at Geralt, as if he was being ashamed right now. "... just never had the time to pursue this matter properly. There are more important things."   
"Are there?" Geralt raised his eyebrows at him in a challenging way. He was behaving like Triss again: Pretending to care for other things to not have to deal with her emotions. Well, he knew Triss so he might as well try the same methods with him. _Mostly_ the same methods anyway.  
"So, wanna tell me who she is?" He thought of giving him some more vodka but was actually concerned Roche might get an alcohol poisoning from all this and decided he didn't even need to. The Temerian was talkative enough.  
"I'd rather not. Would upset a lot of people."  
"Well, as long as it is no water hag, I don't really care. Seen a lot in my time." Roche laughed and nodded. His heart was racing like crazy, but he was trying to stay calm.  
"I guess it's slightly better than water hags." He admitted and Geralt thought of all the women he knew that Roche knew.   
"Well, it's not Ves, and certainly no succubus." He hummed and Roche shook his head. "I really don't know anyone who doesn't like a succubus." He hadn't given it much thought back then when they fought the monsterly duo, but now it seemed to be one crucial part of the puzzle. If he wasn't into beautiful women and neither was he drooling after water hags, there weren't really a lot of options left. Damn, the alcohol made it harder to think still.  
"You're not into elves, are you?" Geralt voiced his last guess but the look Roche gave him proved him wrong.  
"Stop it with the elves, will you? The only thing I feel for Scoia'Tel is the opposite of attraction."   
"Mh-m, I guessed as much actually." Not even elves, even though they were famous for their beauty. It was like Roche wasn't even into women at all.

_Ohhhhhh..._  
Something inside Geralt's brain made 'click'. Suddenly everything made sense. The witcher realized why Roche hadn't been affected by the succubus, why he was upset about the two women burning on the pyre, why he was so shaken up after what had happened to him under Iorveth's men, why he had never told anyone for ages and also why he was always getting so nervous and why his heart always beated like hell when... Geralt was around. Why he had wanted to hate him but couldn't bring himself to it. He had to laugh a little from the shock. He never would have guessed, not with a man like Roche.   
As he looked at him now, it all made even more sense. He grinned, somehow finding it adorable. Made him so much more relatable and gave him a more human side.  
"What?" Roche asked, frowning, probably guessing what Geralt was thinking. "Please don't tell me..."  
"... that I finally figured it out?" Geralt finished his sentence and the commander's heart stopped. "Took me long enough. Because you actually weren't hiding it a lot. I guess I really am the worst interrogator of all time."  
"I err... I think I should..." He wanted to say 'leave' but as Roche tried to stand up he was losing his balance and Geralt reached out to grap his shirt and pulled him back onto the bench. He had lost some colour but now looked at Geralt with a half-smile.  
"I don't mind, Vernon. I'm flattered, really." He actually was. He was kind of used to women falling in love with him but someone like Vernon Roche? It was still very surreal when he thought about it. Right now he just really wondered how the hell he didn't realize it sooner. He just never had thought of even that possibility.  
"Now you're just mocking me." The commander mumbled but didn't try to stand up again. The colour had returned to his face in a flushing red and Geralt had to laugh again. This was so surreal.  
"I'm not! I just never expected this. Who else knows?" Roche shook his head and reluctantly looked at the witcher.  
"Never told anybody. Dijkstra found out, though. Maybe Ves suspects something, but we never talked about it."   
"Damn, no wonder it was bothering you so much." He wanted to say more but as he looked at the man beside him again he was rendered speechless. He knew him for nearly a year now.   
Vernon Roche, the bloodthirsty commander of the Blue Stripes, indifferent to killing elven children, non-approver of mages and sorceresses and seemingly one to be against this concept of love. At least back then in Flotsam he seemed to be that kind of a person. He had changed so much since they had gotten to know each other better. Had all of his more extreme behaviour been only for show?  
"Sorry, I'll need to finish the bottle... Never would have seen this coming, Vernon."  
"Me neither. I mean, I'd never thought you'd react like this." The commander shifted on the bench, leaning his elbows on the table and looked at the drinking witcher. He was trying to relax a bit, but couldn't stop his crazy heartbeat. "I honestly didn't know what to expect. I guess I didn't really believe I'd let you find it out. Either way, I'm... glad that you know now."   
The witcher nodded, finishing most of what little remained in the bottle and closed his eyes as the alcohol left a bitter taste. Now he wanted to get drunk.   
"If you wanna talk... helps with a lot of things." He said, remembering what he'd do to help Triss in a situation like this while trying to calculate if he would throw up would he finish the bottle right now.  
"Don't normally do it. But when the elves captured me, I thought I'd fall under Iorveth's hand. I realized that, would I have died then, you'd never have known and I didn't want to go with that left unfinished. Wanted to tell you that night but..."  
"... I get it. Not something you just say after all that time." He mumbled, finishing the bottle eventually. He realized he was slurring more and that it wouldn't be long now until he wouldn't be able to think rationally anymore and considered wether it was a good thing in this situation.   
"Sure getting more drunk is that good an idea?"  
"I'm not even remotely drunk." Geralt said, but knew this statement wouldn't be valid for much longer. "Besides, I might just deal with it easier this way."  
"I apologize." Roche said and Geralt realized his explanation had come out wrong.  
"No need, wasn't talking about that. It just changes everything I have ever thought about you."  
"Don't make too much out of it." Roche shifted again, trying to conceal his nerviosity. _Too late to conceal anything_ , Geralt laughed in thoughts, still finding skittish enamored Roche extremely likeable. "I'm still the same prick as always. Well, maybe not towards you, not normally. And it's not like I would try anything, I won't even mention it again if you don't want to. I know you're only into sorceresses."  
"Worse people have asked me out." Geralt shrugged, still amused.  
"And that's the vodka talking."  
"Maybe." Geralt replied, slurring, not even knowing why he'd said it. "Had more of it than you... and it seems it's having more impact on me it appears."  
"It just shows differently, I'd never have let you know about it otherwise. Look at me, I'm shaking, but I couldn't care less." He really was shivering but didn't let Geralt reply just yet. "You know, I might always seem to be somewhat callous but I'm just reacting to the world. See, that's why I normally don't drink. Because I say things I'd regret when sober. Not now. You might never talk to me again but I don't care."  
"Why wouldn't I talk to you? We're friends. I stayed friends with Triss too." He patted him on the shoulder to reassure him and smiled.  
"You and Triss - that's different..." The Temerian mumbled but Geralt disagreed.  
"Not _that_ different right now, no." He voiced his thoughts because it actually wasn't that much of a stretch.   
"I wish..." Roche smirked kind of despondently, then froze, regretting instantly to have said that out loud and Geralt had to laugh. Instinctively he flashed his eyebrows at the Temerian and winked. Vernon, caught off-guard, blushed and looked away, making Geralt feel kind of sad for him. Those reactions were real, the witcher could tell, this man was definetely in love with him. He knew he couldn't give him what he wanted and having him in suspense right here was making him feel lousy. He thought about asking him out to dance again, maybe to make him feel better, but alcohol-influenced, he just made another bad joke to lighten up the mood.  
"I'd fall for me too if I were you. You have an excellent taste." He grinned and Roche shook his head in diverted disbelief. Geralt just suddenly realized he actually had considered asking him out to dance.  
"To be clear, it wasn't until Loc Muinne that I saw you as anything but an ally."  
"A really handsome ally though."  
"Shut up." They laughed and Geralt noticed his companion's hearbeat decrease as he calmed himself down. Unlike the musicians, that upped the pace again to reawaken some of the inn's guests.   
"So, mentioned you were in love twice." Geralt kept on asking. "Who's the other fellow?"  
"Really wanna hear about it?" Roche looked at him, still leaning his elbows on the table and Geralt nodded.  
"Wouldn't have asked otherwise, would I?" He confirmed, becoming aware that he really didn't know the commander that well at all. He saw Roche breathe in and close his eyes for a few seconds before he watched the candle on the table in front of them and began to speak.  
"It's nearly 26 years ago, I was still a boy and never at home. I don't even know his name, but he was a bit older than me and we used to talk from time to time. He moved on with his merchant father though and I haven't seen him since."  
"Have you told him?" Geralt wanted to know, before he remembered Roche had already told him that he didn't ever tell anybody.  
"I haven't. I barely comprehended what was going on myself."  
"So you've never been with anybody?" Geralt asked, feeling a little bad for him. Roche shrugged.  
"I've actually had a really strange thing going on with Brigida Pepperbrock, you remember her?"  
"The woman that we ran into in Loc Muinne?"  
"Precisely. She downright leapt herself at me, surely to gain fame at court and I went along. Worked like magic to keep up the appearance. We actually hated each other." He snorted, thinking back at it. "But no, otherwise than that I've been unaccompanied. I've gotten used to it though and if I don't become some mage's whore I don't see change ahead. Why do you ask? It's not like you could change it." He shrugged sarcastically and Geralt had to smile about the idea.  
"Nope sorry. I'm with Yennefer."  
"I'd be sensationally thrilled were that your only restraint." He laughed and shook his head and Geralt was surprised himself as to why he had chosen Yennefer as the reason. The obvious, true reason was by all means their genders. He couldn't be with another man, that much was clear to him. Not that it would be any problem for him, but... Honestly, he just had never given it a thought, he just naturally always went after women. It did feel unfamiliar to even consider the possibility but to be fair, he was never even presented with an oportunity like this one. Funny, that he even _had_ to think about it and not immediately dismissed it as something out-of-the-question. Confused, he looked at Roche again and didn't find him sexually repulsing. Not arousing either just... unfamiliar.  
"Huh, strange." He mumbled out loud.  
"What is?" Roche frowned and looked at him. Geralt knew it was the vodka's fault that he actually looked at his friend differently now. He imagined Vernon would be all in for a night of experimentation and somehow that made Geralt even more curious. Damn, had he really drunken that much?  
"Err, nothing, just have a sore throat. I'll just go order some water. For you too?" He stood up, having Roche frown. He shook his head and the witcher went over to the bar. He just needed one minute to consider.

Roche didn't mind him leaving, he needed some time alone as well. He still couldn't believe it had gone so well. He felt such relief that he could talk about it at last, moreso with his beloved witcher. He had thought of the worst of outcomes and was astounded Geralt had taken the news that well. He hadn't changed at all and was still treating him like a friend.   
Roche could breathe freely and felt like an enormous weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He was well aware that his love wouldn't ever be reciprocated but he didn't give a damn. Maybe he really should find himself a mage. He had to smile. Life had suddenly become so much easier it seemed. As he, too, stood up to go out and grab some fresh air he was halted by a peasant girl, that blocked his way.   
"Why hello g'night, stranger." She was certainly drunk and quickly joined by another girl, that looked like her sister.  
"Go away, sis, I've found him first."   
"Aww, but didn't you have a friend, where is he?" The sister asked him and Roche thought of just pushing them out of his way to be rid of them but decided it would be better not to make a scene.   
"Over at the bar." He nodded at Geralt's direction. "He should be happy to have both of you join him."   
"What, noooo..." The first girl came closer while the sister began to stroll towards the witcher's direction. "I'm a decent girl, I'm not having any of this. Besides... I like you a whole lot more." She tried to get even closer but the commander caught her by the shoulders to keep her at a safe distance.  
"No offence but my wife is waiting at home." He said. It was his prefabricated response he had used many times already in situations like this one.   
"Come on, just one dance, she won't know." He sighted, thinking about how to resolve this without violence. He looked across the room and spotted Geralt in the dancing crowd. Apart from the fact, that he didn't want to lead the girl on, he didn't really enjoy dancing. Never participated at court and he would just bump into every other dancer in his state. Not that this would matter here, without any men of culture. As he let go of her and just stood silently with crossed arms, she eventually got the message.  
"Melitele, you're boring." She babbled and walked off, allowing him to go outside. It was getting cold out here in the night, but it was better than the stuffy atmosphere in the bar. Inhaling the fresh air, he positioned himself next to the window and peeked inside. Geralt was still dancing. He seemed to be enjoying himself and Roche closed his eyes. He leaned against the wall and smiled. Free of troubling thoughts, he felt an unknown quiet in his mind, that made him feel strangely relaxed. He tilted his head and looked at the night's sky. To his great surprise he was getting tired. He never did get enough sleep and was used to staying up all night, caught up in work and strategies, but sleep had lately been more of a necessity, than something he'd want to do. Right now, he was looking forward to a comfy bed and a pleasant night. Hopefully without any nightmares.  
He didn't know for how long he stayed there, just enjoying the calm, but it must have been at least a couple of minutes. By the time a small shiver ran down his spine, he decided to head back inside.   
Just as he was through the door, he nearly bumped into his witcher friend. Geralt had stopped the dance and had maneuvered his way through the crowd of people. He smiled as he saw Roche.  
"There you are. I've been looking for you." His tone was different but Roche couldn't quite put his finger on it.  
"Everything all right? Where's your girl?" Geralt shrugged and lead their way towards the innkeep. Roche just followed for now. It was his destination as well anyway.  
"She was nice but... boring, if you know what I mean. Nothing new, everything's familiar." They reached the bar and Roche just wondered what had gotten into his friend. He'd never seen him decline an offer from a girl before.   
"Are you feeling quite alright?" He wanted to know, but Geralt had by then already gained the attention of the innkeep.  
"One room for the night – got any left?" The witcher asked and Roche widened his eyes in shock at the phrasing. He saw the innkeep narrow his eyes.  
"A room each, of course." The Temerian added, paranoia triggered, as he tried to unsuspiciously look around for Redanian guards or any of the sort. Turned out there was a whole patrol seated on a table at the other corner. Must have arrived recently because he hadn't seen them on entering. The innkeep nodded and handed both of them their keys.  
"Breakfast at 10, if you're willing to pay a few extra bucks. You pay up now or...?"  
"First thing in the morning." Geralt ensured him and turned to Roche as the man went on to attend other customers.  
"What the hell, Geralt? You can't just say shit like this out loud!" He said in a loud whisper, but the witcher gently pushed him through the crowd towards the corridor that lead to the chambers without answering him. As fewer people were in their path, Roche stopped to face him. "Got that little money left or-"  
"Sorry, didn't think it was that big a deal." Roche frowned as they walked the corridor, heading for the stairs. Geralt seemed slightly more drunk than before. Something was going on with him. "You risked a lot by telling me. I could've just informed the guards and they'd probably hung you right in the morning." The witcher said in a concerned tone, as if he was only by now understanding Roche's situation.  
"They would have tried, certainly. But I knew you wouldn't do any of the sort." The commander assured him, smiling.  
"Still, pretty brave of you." His heart made another few rare jumps as Geralt looked at him with a smile. There was something else about the witcher right now, that he couldn't clearly define. For example that he had still placed a hand on Roche's back, slightly pushing him forward. They reached the upper floor and the commander needed to concentrate to answer in a seemingly confident way.   
"I just reckoned 'Oh, what the hell', and decided it was worth a shot." Sure, he made it sound so easy. He still was bloody insecure about it even now. "There we are." He said, as they reached their rooms. They were at the opposite sides of the hallway, and Roche went on to unlock his as he heard Geralt answer him.  
"'What the hell' is exactly what I am thinking right now." The witcher approached him and Roche turned around only to have two strong hands grap his arms and push him gently against the locked door. Confused, Roche blinked twice, not truly getting if that had just really happened.  
"Not complaining but what are-" He went silent immediately as Geralt suddenly came very close and the Temerian gasped at the sudden full contact. He could literally hear his heart pounding in his whole body as the witcher whispered in his gravely voice.  
"The girl didn't interest me. Nothing new to explore, nothing special, something I could do every night, but you..." Geralt's smile turned predatory, having Roche hold his breath, not moving in the witcher's grip. "... well you're certainly a first to me."  
"I..." Roche commenced, trying hard not to stutter. "I think you've had a lot to drink, my friend. I'm not sure this is a good idea." Certainly, he didn't want anything more than Geralt in his bed right now but both of them would surely regret it in the morning when sober. Geralt more than him, probably. Determined, he pushed the witcher's hands away, to get some space between them, but Geralt just grabbed his shoulders and shoved him back against the wall, still gently but a lot firmer. The commander felt the heat rush into his lower body's regions as he realized that it might be too late for him to change the witcher's mind.   
"I don't either. Isn't that the most intriguing part?" He leaned in closer and whispered: "Open the door, Vernon." It wasn't a suggestion and the commander dropped the resistance as he fumbled with the key in his right hand. Still not properly believing that this was really happening now, he turned around to find the keyhole. This had kind of come out of nowhere.  
" I don't know when you've come up with the idea but...You're really sure about this..." He commenced, while trying to unlock the door. Shaking, this proved surprisingly difficult. Suddenly Geralt moved in close again from behind and pressed his body against Roche's.   
"You'd be shocked at how sure I am about it." He moved his hips a little against Roche's buttocks and even through the witcher's leather trousers the Temerian could clearly feel his erection. His heart went insane and it was pure luck that he was able to unlock the door. As soon as it opened, the witcher almost immediately launched both of them inside and and closed the door behind them. 

There they were, Roche still not properly accepting that this was real, but as Geralt went towards him, gently pushing him towards the bed with one hand, while with the other fumbling with his belt, the commander stopped to care. Letting go of all his fears, he reached out to cup the other man's face and went in for a kiss. Many unknown positive emotions flooded his brain as Geralt kissed back. Hesitant at first, the witcher soon forgot any restraints he might have had before and actually gave him an intense passionate kiss before shoving him onto the soft mattress. The commander sat up and watched mesmerized as the witcher in front of him put down his swords and slowly went on to remove his armour. He wanted to do the same but was too focused on watching the man he loved strip for him. As Geralt pulled off his shirt, Roche rose up to kiss him again, resting his hands on that chest of his. He felt like he was going crazy.   
"Why are you still wearing clothes?" Geralt hummed and Roche felt both of the other man's hands grab the sides of his shirt, slowly lifting it up. Hell, no time wasted here. He didn't wear any amour, so he just held up his arms to let the witcher take it off. They were seemingly both equally on fire and Roche was just awaiting to wake up from a lucid fantasy dream.  
"I still can't believe this is happening." He admitted, smiling, and Geralt had to laugh as he threw his shirt on the ground without looking. Roche saw him stare at him topless, a mixture of confusion and fascination in his eyes.  
"I can. It's a strange feeling but I'm too turned on to walk away now." He said, fumbling with his belt again.   
"Thanks." Roche mumbled, flattered and Geralt gave him a wicked grin.  
"Don't thank me too soon. You'll be feeling for weeks what's coming for you." He threw his belt away, slowly opening his leather pants. Still sitting in front of him on the bed, Roche reached out, not enduring the suspense. None of them were wasting time, that much was clear. Geralt stopped all effort to undress himself further and instead looked at the Temerian as he pulled the trousers down, freeing Geralt's cock. Roche raised his eyebrows at it's size, already concerned for the pain it would cause him later but amazed at the same time.   
"Do you... you know, got any lubricant?" He looked up from where he was sitting and the witcher shook his head.  
"No, but I have an idea." Geralt hesitantly placed his hand behind Roche's head and gently pulled him closer towards his manhood. They still held eye contact and the commander saw how the witcher was really cautious.  
"... that is, if you want to." He added but as he saw Roche moving towards his cock by himself his quick moment of cautiousness was forgotten. The Temerian briefly wondered why he had thought this might have been a problem for him, but as he focused on the matter at hand, all other thoughts were blurred out. He hadn't ever done this before but reckoned it wouldn't be that difficult. As he opened his mouth to slowly begin to take the witcher in, he closed his eyes, imagining what he'd want in this situation. He let his tongue circle around the tip of the other man's erection, and gently placed one hand around the shaft to build up some tension. He felt a light push from Geralt's hand as the witcher impatiently wanted him to take in more. He wouldn't give him the satisfaction and began to slowly work his way from the tip to it's thick head. Still circling his tongue to the best of his means he began to stroke in a more regular figure. He resisted another, firmer push from the witcher and to his great satisfaction heard him moan already. From the way Geralt shifted in front of him, Roche reckoned he was resisting the urge to buck his hips. Without any warning he decided to grant him his wish as he suddenly took him in deep and immediately slid out again. Geralt let out a surprised moan and Roche repeated the process a few times before he needed to take a break to breathe. He quickly resumed though, stroking the witcher while working him up with his mouth inch by inch. Just as he was getting the hang of it, scoring more pleased witcher hums and moans, the hand that had been pushing him all this time suddenly grabbed his hair and pulled him back. Confused, the Temerian stopped and looked up at Geralt.  
"Did I do something wrong or-?"  
"On the contrary." The witcher grinned, climbing onto the bed while pushing Roche to lie down. "But if you continue this will be a very short night."   
Not breaking off eye contact, the witcher quickly and skillfully undid Roche's belt and with one rough shove pulled down his pants and threw them across the room. Roche didn't know if he should be happy or afraid about the muscular figure hovering above him, ready to fuck him, but he was certainly aroused. Geralt positioned himself on top of him, for a few moments looking him up and down. Roche was concerned he'd change his mind, remembering he wasn't into men but instead, the witcher just smiled at him.   
"Vernon Roche, prepare to be devastated." His friendly smile transformed into a wicked grin and the commander felt something wet prodding at his entrance. Yup, Geralt was just getting straight on with it. This would so gonna hurt, Roche knew and he tried to lift himself up on his elbows to gain a bit more control of the situation. As soon as he rose though, the witcher above him pushed him down again, increasing the pressure with which he nudged his cock against him as well. He kept one hand on Roche's chest, not allowing him to move and the commander felt the tip of Geralt's cock entering him.   
"Don't I get a say in this?" He complained playfully, actually enjoying not to be the dominant one.   
"You've gotten yourself into it." Geralt laughed, and without a warning grabbed Roche's cock. The commander closed his eyes as the witcher began rubbing it, forgetting he was about to be violently penetrated at any moment.   
"Besides, don't pretend like you're complaining."  
"Oh just shut up, wi-" He was about to say as Geralt suddenly slid inside him, entering him deep from the pressure built-up. Roche had thought the elf had hurt but he had been no comparison. He shut his eyes tight and hissed, but otherwise stayed where he was. He felt the witcher's hand move to his cheek and as he opened his eyes, he saw the other man's concerned face.   
"You're in pain." He said but Roche quickly shook his head. He was not going to ruin this, he already felt how he was adjusting to the feeling anyway.  
"That's normal. Fuck, I can take it, don't you even bloody think about stop-" He was cut off by himself moaning as the witcher started to move inside him. He wasn't penetrating him deeper, he seemed to be taking his time, watching the commander all the while. The slightly concerned look Geralt had faded as he saw Roche close his eyes in enjoyment as the pleasure started to roll in. As the witcher started to stroke the Temerian's cock again, Roche let out a pleased gasp and opened his eyes again. He tried to take in this sight of Geralt sleeping with him, looking at him like that and at the same time trying to sense everything the other man was doing to him right now. The many emotions left him in an overwhelmed state of happiness, that just made him smile. Geralt seemed to take this as an order to up his pace.   
Still pinning Roche to the bed with one hand he moved in closer, moaning silently as nearly all of his length entered the commander. Roche twitched there for an instant, grabbing on to Geralt's arm as another wave of pain shot through him. This time though, the monster hunter didn't stop and actually slammed in fast and hard now, not forgetting to keep on rubbing Roche's dick. Confused by the two different feelings, the commander squirmed a little bit and kept holding on to Geralt's arm. He let out soft cries, barely hearable for himself but he saw Geralt grin at each one of them. A little embarrassed, he tried to control it, but the witcher just kept on making harder and even deeper thrusts, having the commander helplessly struggle for his dignity.   
"What's the matter, Vernon? You'll have the other residents make complaints about the noise." He laughed, breathing heavily. He continued his quick rhythm, increasing the pace on Roche's cock too.   
"You're a bloody sadist... oh.." He didn't even manage to get his backlash out right as he was revelling in the feeling. Geralt hummed and kept on banging his hips, his breathing becoming heavier. For a few wonderful moments Roche could enjoy Geralt pounding at his prostate, making the tingling feeling in his guts grow stronger. He felt the heat rise inside him even more and began to shiver suddenly.  
He was coming already, shocked that he wouldn't even last ten minutes. The witcher noticed it and began to stroke him at an insane speed. Some colours exploded before his closed eyes as the commander finally found release and sat up as if some physical force had lifted him up. He felt the witcher's hand shoving him down again while said one kept shoving his cock into him as well.   
"Well that was certainly quick." Geralt remarked, not stopping to assault his friend's body, and Roche looked at him, exhausted. Gasping, he tried to catch his breath but didn't have the opportunity. He noticed more pain than pleasure now as the nice feeling from before had vanished but he didn't want this night to stop ever. He smiled one of the happiest smiles in his entire life before he had to close his eyes again to suppress moans of pain mixed with joy. He wanted to answer the witcher somehow but the Rivian leaned down, whispering into the Temerian's ear.  
"How much more can you take?" His voice sounded excited but a little cautious now and he stayed where he was, basically lying on top of Roche, still pounding into him at a steady pace.  
"I'll... take whatever you give me." He managed to mumble while letting out another moan, not properly knowing if he should regret saying that. As he opened his eyes again slightly, breathing heavily, he saw the witcher directly above him, placing his hands next to Roche's head. Instinctively, the commander knew he wouldn't be holding back anything anymore right now and placed his arms around Geralt's chest, embracing him in an attempt to get himself ready for what was to come. He inhaled sharply as Geralt moved out of him nearly completely, preparing a violent thrust.   
As the witcher slammed into him though, putting on display all of his superhuman strength, he nearly cried out in surprise. He didn't have any time to recover as Geralt repeated the offensive and Roche hissed and closed his arms tighter around his friend. As the witcher continued, striking faster and equally violent, the Temerian began to let out first whimpers. He was in pain, yes, but also extremely content as he heard Geralt's moans. He imagined the witcher couldn't do this sort of thing with Triss or Yennefer but couldn't keep clear thoughts for long. Not stopping, Geralt cupped Roche's cheek with one hand and looked at him. The commander had a hard time looking back, with all that was going on inside of him. Geralt, too, looked contently exhausted.  
"I hope this... doesn't hurt too much..." The witcher huffed, looking actually ecstatic and Roche shook his head, trying hard to keep looking at him and not make his whimpers of pain too audible.  
"It's completely fine... really." He whispered as he was once again impaled with full force, slowly getting used to the onlaught. Geralt smiled faintly and gave him a quick, sweet peck on the forehead - which was worth all hell on earth as far as Roche was concerned - before increasing the pace yet again, making the commander cower in his embrace.  
As he slid back and forth on the matress, he slowly accommodated to the thrust attacks and even noticed how his whimpers had turned into soft, muffled cries again. It was remarkable he was still able to keep the volume to a minimum, even though he had the desire to scream out loud as his prostate was still assaulted, and he actually felt another erection rising. Maybe it was because of the sheer physiology of the situation or because he started to enjoy it again. After some time the pain would vanish completely, he reckoned gladly. The stars he saw now though, were growing more solid by the second and he kept burying his face into the witcher's chest. Geralt began to pound more irregularly into him and moaned as he one last time moved deep into the commander and came too.   
They both gasped as the White Wolf collapsed on top of him, falling into Roche's arms. The commander was out of breath, his heart pounding wildly in his chest because of the stress and they were both sweating. It hadn't even lasted very long but it had been intense. The witcher pushed himself up on his arms, catching his breath and looked once again at the Temerian. They both smiled, not able to say a word and Geralt pulled his cock out of him and fell onto the covers next to the soldier.   
They lay there for some time, not making any sound except for heavy breathing before the witcher moved to grab his underpants. Roche finally stood up to do the same as his ones were laying in the other corner of the room, courtesy of Geralt's throw-away-other's-clothes fetish. At the first step he took, he nearly fell to his knees though, feeling faint and suddenly in pain again.   
"Are you alright?" Geralt asked, worried, and moved towards him. Roche nodded and tried to ignore the feeling as he moved on.  
"It's nothing." He said confidently but staggered and was caught in the witcher's arms. He smiled, a little delirious and Geralt layed him down on the bed again.   
"Sorry about that." The witcher mumbled but smiled back at him, seeing that Roche wasn't really caring much for the pain. He tucked him in and soon got under the covers as well behind the Temerian. "I'm done for." He mumbled and Roche smiled.  
"I feel fucking destroyed." Geralt chuckled silently, laying an arm around his Temerian friend.   
"Mh-m, I leave that kind of impact." He whispered, sounding tired. Roche himself felt that he could fall asleep every second.  
"When I told you I knew where this evening was going... I didn't have this in mind." He said, provoking another weak laugh from Geralt.  
"Tell me about it. Don't regret it, though." The witcher hummed and Roche's tired heart made another last jump of happiness this night. Come morning when sober, Geralt might think differently about all this but for now they were both content and that was all that mattered for the commander.  
He knew his problems were far from over, at least the important ones. The deadly plot was still waiting to be carried out, he was now in even more danger of being executed and Temeria was still a wreck. But in all that mess he had finally found peace. As he fell asleep in his beloved's embrace he experienced a feeling he had long since thought forgotten: He felt safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! This has been the longest chapter so far and I hope I didn't disappoint :-)  
> I also realized I'm way better at writing dialogues than sexy scenes but I've still got more of those left to practice in the future.


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